© 03-14-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
and post notes and photos about your poem.
I know this crying voice of yours at night;
abyed, expending dance on broken glass,
enfolds your days and lone, demised insight
illuminates your forms while bleeding lasts.
Expanding scene the nuptial rained cold glade,
that hurts relentless in the stills of nyx,
inside mind's hope - deceived, the foliage shade,
attached to mirrors, images affix.
I know this call; it steals the colors' depth
affrays inside the mirror and the glimpse,
becomes a fading sight of nightly dearth,
agrestic scene and breath of moon's eclipse.
Your face reflects on mirrors' softened mirth,
approaches in the solitude that craves,
smiled recognition in your eyes and breadth,
a liturgy inside Cathedral naves.
Arcane I honor and adore you 'mong,
what spreads above the solitude and fades,
enfolds the last and detrimental wrong
that our enjoined similitude persuades.
© G.V. 03-14-2013