Decorated with Flowers

I was wandering in the woods of dawn
 As i flew in the face of logic
 The night before
 The mourning after
 Gifted with such wonderful wounds
 Caress the salty waters
 The light in the dead of the day
 Whispers gently; birds of prey
 Attack in vain
 Decay
 And
 Sustain
 Release this greater art of wrath
 Early spring: silence is forced to leave,
 Uncovering immature thoughts. are they
 Yet to be unleashed? orion rules the sky
 Once more, orbiting the polar star. what weak companion that i am to him. has winter wiped the forsaken thought, whose twitching i believe to feel? no longer shall it dwell within. early spring is on my mind, throughout of another kind. yet, as
 I bethink again, i recognise him very well.