Of the 10th Order
The wind rattles and shuttles leaves into fall
And grass wipes off its tears in the pour of night.
I hear throbbing haunches and tramps of stallions.
Garlands of blinking cowry shells
Ferried long from the treasury shores of the hoary moon circle their ripe manes.
Their hooves are cobbled ribbons that swim in the vicinity,
In a green picked from the virgin gardens of orion.
Then he appears on a grandeur chariot,
Sublime in the way he stoops for my being.
Every turn of the draconian rims, grand and millennial.
Crickets kick in creak and hearts heat in beats and him speaks in flickers.
The seraph spread of the white of his wings shines,
In purest and fairest of odd
Streaming milky in the way it pours out light unto the sun
His robe was torn from the scintilla of clockless nebulae
His skin freckles in sparkles of the gold of lyra and emeralds of taurus
He is not an enemy yet carries a triple-edged stainless rapier
Fetched from the mouth of draconis.
An aura of pirouetting cub whirlstorms keep him faceless
He thirsts my glory and haunts again
He's my angel of success
Copyright © Kunda Chamatete | Year Posted 2017
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