Now only red when you blink.
Eyes, tight open, refuse the sorrow fields of vermilion ink.
Your crimson robes engulf; shroud life, subdue all hope foretold.
Blood will flow and still; still all you’ll see is gold.
Pour your burgundy oblations; they flow greyscale dry.
Your words cut through to death, yet you refuse to die.
So in your night they will remain,
Till death follows death to scarlet death flame
Or, let your eyes cry; burn
Then open to life, to see, to live.
To red sky morning
Hear; hear the shepherds warning.