The Face of War, 1941, Salvador Dali

O moon, the blood-rose pearl of my aching soul, the ghostly seer of hourglass woes ~ heed these wistful words ~ forgive the dreadful quivers between cacophonous quiescence, tremors within lungs of lament, spears of piercing p a i n ... Read through deep obsidian eyes of empathy; I remain not blind, but blurred and bruised in fear of the valley of violence. I kneel upon the Sahara of sorrow, pleading on the cusp of weathered wounds, breathing macabre runes entombed in the desert of rain and ruins, recalling calligraphies scripted with tanzanite tears on the trembling towers of torment ~ as mind exhales, perplexed and possessed c o n s u m e d with bullet-struck blossoms, flowers weeping in sync with searing streams of desolation. While silent spectators remain unaware of the heavens mourning, for the world is bleeding; the earth lies scarred and cursed, the sky is charred with innocent cries, the wind drizzles funeral thorns upon the spine of dying dunes ~ walking through reality that screams of amplified brutality, echoing skeletal stillness stitched to roots of agony, crocheted with crystalline strands of distressed supplication. But will peace defeat the scorching storms of blinding thunder, and forgiveness unveil an onyx blanket sewn with star-ridden serenity, smothering ticking grains of uncertainty? Perhaps hope still glows ~ erasing nightmares, thawing frozen heartbeats into throbbing blues ~ dreams of black dahlias drifting beneath dulcet dawns, oblivious to the haze of hate. Reptilian thrones, laden with venom, coiled crowns, ruling the grieving globe with daggers dipped in deceit, weaponizing the weary with fingers forged like poisoned blades of trickery ~ as if we, the poets, will speak not the truth in metaphors and rhymes, in cryptic cadence … So let the shadows of sinister cerulean follow my name, I, an amateur silhouette scribbling with flawed ink a hymn to the hope that still thrives, like fragments of fortitude unfurling a nocturnal potion handcrafted with love ~ regal and resilient against a world carrying the weight of snakes and bones, of blisters and screams of c o l l a p s e d humanity...