I Must Now Conceded the Victory & Listen

My cries have called the world home
No woman of my past heard them
They were, the flight of fathoms lived in the past
The women were better at reality
My sentence of stone was hard years
Where memories were crushed
Into a powder, the mark of many
Flowers thrust into dyes
My cries have made the long white nights
A spilled affair of burning right through
Belief, youth, and lofty deaths
Rebirth was the rustling heat of summer
Fresh, from the lonely walk to an empty home
My cries were poisonous heart-beats
Of the breast and beast in the worst of me
I personified something ridiculous and chilled
Something to fill my window with a festive tone
Of hope staring me straight in the eyes
From some momentous star that shone and fled.