Enormous
globe of fire,
pearl of the eternal
fuel of Life, you rise
and shatter the black glass,
omnipotent presence of twilight;
you refuse to be swallowed
by Time
for more than a day.
Safely, I can say
that your empire is rage
at what cannot be done; verily,
your domain is the irreverent cage
when fetters are the kindle
used to light our temporal sky
and bring to its knees
such pain of nothing
had. O
stark sphere of power,
rich ring, marble of marvellous
she who is heroine of broken
we who wish
upon you; O
star who tinges with blood
the ribs and backs of clouds,
who is the ensign of Kings,
presiding over oceans
with gold flood pervasive
flowing over
we who dream; O
circlet’s fill of victory,
we follow you
with the boundless failure
of such as are delicate-
strong, are
decidedly flawed
and destined to find
inside the disheartening mire of mistakes
that a perfect mess like us
deserves depiction
such as yours, O
regular resurrection,
pondering paintsmith,
damsel destroying with Godly Art
this distress of lost life
that is ours, O
she who speaks
of us, on our behalf,
princess of purity, poise,
yet alchemy's alloy: Age
abandoning Love's lullaby of loss…
When Night arrives to take me
back, who will be there
just to defend
me, fend off the webs
of that regret of we
who are so rent? Will it be you,
O Sun? Will you come
through to my aid in the darkest of hours,
when this untenable history that is mine
swells into an anthem
that cannot be muted, destroyed,
no, only transmuted
into a musical score of your choice, Sun,
should you choose to save my Soul
from plunge of sticky water
tugging at my body, cold
manipulation of what carries me
to capsize, to go under, die,
drowned in the silk softness
of this kingdom of spiders: anxiety,
father of the depressed
who struggle to be, stay
brave against such tidal oppress of
our rebellion of Love
amidst this thrash and throng of hollow,
void and clutching
kill of much—Who is to say
I shall not be undone
when Night arrives to take me
back
into myself,
statue but I'd rather
be lodged into Hell.
Lovestruck
humankind: We are fine filaments
in this magnificence of quiet, of
this boisterous abyss, housing us all
revolutionary riots of sound
going out like lightbulbs popped
but we are always spectacular
Suns and our tomorrow unborn
shall see us rise out of the sea
of Death
once claimed our lives, but:
No, we shall survive Time more.
06/22/2016
en route to Atlanta