The Ivy and Fallen Grace

O winter weaves these frost bitten 
sleeves, arise from these grieves 
and weakest hearts give
stronger desires 
and lit aloft a host of fires
for that which is dire
upon the mounds 
are higher grounds the 
stars stand aloof 
and all in such worth 
is proof
the comets bleed
for a deed that
stemmed from greed 
and thus has laid the seed 
of infamy and litany
that corrupts the soul
in villainy.
Peace for me in darkness veiled?
Resurrect the love so hailed 
and graces fal ito webbed dreams 
of dead men screaming 
and in this dreaming 
I extinguish the light 
that had not failed and I 
the wretch inclined to fetch the 
cowardice in all amiss 
I never went down gossamer halls,
where I seen my comrades fall 
and I run seeking the far reaching 
crimson stained sands where once 
I stood as a man and craven born 
the ideal done and the sun cast away 
to some other Autumn gray
and haven for the slave is ailing
the jestic abomination I fell into such 
a nation where given such the station 
I am lost beyond God's redemptions
and in my own exemption 
I imprison the spirit who couldnt
stand to hear it nor fear it
and the chorus of conscience sings 
for the demon waking or some other 
hellish thing. 
My words are born on the wings 
of murder, crows, where then snows 
I cannot close the season's froze
and blooming grows that never slows and I am 
grim ivy clinging to the sun