THE BLUE TAPIR.

I

THE BLOODY HAND OF THE QUEEN, 
RAISED THE QUIETLY BIRTH.

BY SEVEN LANCES OF HATE, 
A MOTHER OF LIFELESS HEART.

OPENED THEIR FINGERS, 
MOVED ITS NAKED FACE,

MIDDLE FINGER AS A CAVE.

WAS BLUE HIS SON, AS A SEA,

COATED BY HAIRS, NEW MORNING LINED.

TOGHETHER WITH  FORESTS IT GREW,

BETWEEN MUDS AND GRASSLANDS IT SLEPT.

WITH MANGOS AND MORICHALS, 
BY ITS MOTHER FED.

BLUE TAPIR, 
YOU’LL BE THE HORSE OF THE QUEEN, 
HER AMENDMENT.

HER EYES, HER LEGS, HER HANDS, 
WILL BE YOUR REIN.

RIDDEN WITH LIONZA, 
THOUSAND TRAILS OF HUNDRED LANDS.

WITNESS WITH YOUR MOTHER, 
THE BREACH OF AN OLDY TRACE.

THAT USED TO BE THE CALM, 
THE HOPE OF MISERIES AND PAIN.

A MORICHAL BROUGHT ITS FRUITS, 
LATE AT ITS DREAM,

HEARSAY WERE HEARD, 
IN  ECHOS OF THOUSAND WORDS.

BUILT AN ENCHANTED WELL, 
AND A LEYEND IN ITS SHORES.