At the end, all is bound, In golden light For to love death; Is to admire life, As both are the same Which through perfection, Must be, United.
The rain returns, To serenade me, As I sit amidst a drought, Of life, Whose roots dig desperately, To the past, Wherein the scent of perfect days Is returned from desiccation, By simple droplets, Each a looking glass, Into avenues I long to walk again.
Of smoke, Which curdles in the light And mirrors, Who shatter should I look away, Nothing of the Earth, Can whip me to a deeper frenzy, As your eyes of black, Which ignite with wordless desire, My heart that cannot fail, To crave to love, Your form; Metaphysical - a manifested dream, That cradles… Continue reading Succubi Bride
Whispered through the leaves, Is a song, Caught only by memories, That lean into notes, Of times that were, Wanton for more, So that the song will continue, Longer, Until days are no more.
There are moments in time When the sun pauses, to bid farewell, On perfect midsummer nights, As cool hawthorn begs me to stay, For just a while longer, and you. Months and years will pass, And all shall return to me; Memories - pollen scented, Of a time when the stars were clear, But… Continue reading The Dream That Almost Was