Charade
Arc of wind twirls on tongue hiss here:
Curse of sad fate brings gall as such,
Rush of craze swirls from mad blind seer;
Ask not too late for sense of touch,
Free will seems lost in strangled sleep;
Taste shows the haste of urgent sting,
Yield shows the cost in debris deep.
Charm lies in waste in broken fling,
Heart torn apart by grief and pain;
Arrest that surge of common sighs,
Rest dying art in drenching rain;
Adjust vain urge of falling highs,
Deed in torn bits steal last surprise,
End empty fit in odd reprise.
Leon Enriquez
21 September 2016
Singapore
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2016
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