Sangious Evensong
Sleeping beside the obloquy's poet,
2:40 am,a candle seeks it's death:
In the plight of your dream.
Slow breathing,
Perhaps the moons learns of her slumbering,
Where the labyrinths of reposing,
Remembers the calm sought,
Of your silent silhouette,
Burn on the walls of the memory.
Are the dreams fluent?
And ever flowing as the heart which stirs,
The compassion of your lucid nature,
In the eyes unto tonight's remembrances.
I can only weave,
The picturesque beatification,
Let me become the seeker,
Of an unconscious truth,
At how loved is she,
The dreamer of my eyes beholding,
Keep safely the soul unmeasured,
And find morning,
Kissing sunlight unto Hestia's hearth
And into the eyes of a woman,
Who found her home,
By the resting.
Arisen by a poet's words
Becomes cleansed in her chrysalis.
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