Reflections of the Daemon
As I close my dry, weary reddish eyes,
the daydreams of whence I was not alone
pour forth in an enchanting kaleidoscope
with vast imagery and electrified emotions.
Some the brightest yellow and gold, others
a tawny, deep dark bluish black. But, they're
mine; no one can take them away from me.
A new excursion into old memories begins.
You are to be pitied more than I...perhaps.
I soar above all your innumerable miseries,
partaking within the nature of an angel; for
you've said, my place is not in your sphere.
You have the earth; I have boundless space.
You, enchained below, by a thousand bonds
of your gross, materialistic, in-genuine cruxes.
You attend your religious mass when convenient;
find time to pray only when you want something.
You cannot depart and plunge into a limpid sea
nor travel through the vastness of time and space.
Lost on your arid shores, my mind drinks deep
as I drown in the desert choking on your soul.
Copyright © Ken Allan Dronsfield | Year Posted 2021
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