Ideal's the emptiness amid stone scapes;
Invited souls - two dancers times enfold;
Invoke the past, rose thorns redraw its shapes
the years sustain recalls of feelings' mold.
Recite old scripts - the weather's voice is cold,
an audience of ghosts their steps extol
the shrines remember them on timeless role,
Adventive cadence is their final goal.
Consorted on the broken glass, they bleed
their lives ascended amid rains of red
maintained and held their words, old ends impede
somehow the birds forgot to sing and fled.
The runnel wraiths of emptiness out-traced
existences' odd trails and righteous shed
where acquaintances devoid embraced
- their solitude; and in the woods winds fled.
Rose-feverish their tips caress time's strings;
and dithered silence shines her splendid glow,
lone glances coil on tungsten glowing rings,
and abstinent redraw - their tears redraw.
© 02-24-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Surreal - Elegy)