immutable muse

as the mourning sky w e e p s and crimson clouds crackle bursting forth blazing bristles resembling roaring rage within bruised blades of lamented leaves fed to the aching soul of Mother Nature my heart quivers~ wishing love could bloom an opalescent dream across the grief-struck spheres where storms crash upon selfless seas awaiting tender lips of tulips from seraphic streaks sleepless amidst the trembling zephyr while h o p e floats like mists of velvety vapor... if only I could be the immutable muse moon-drop maiden amidst deepest sorrows of dahlia dusks and fluorescent flares of delicate dawns ~ if only I could be the sanguine song in the hyacinth heart of mellifluous moonlight... if only there were no pain nor angst perhaps then metaphors of misery would be forsaken poetry would thrive ~ rhymes of love would be the rosemary rhythm... cathartically cradling turbulent twilight like fireflies flickering neon gold against the electric pulse of midnight...