The Fulfillment, 1905, Gustav Klimt
h o l d me
when the world w e
e p s
and the wounds w a n e
like frayed
threads of fear,
as I, a gilded frame,
long to mirror your lyrical light,
to be the ethereal echo
tethered to the
warm orbit of you…
while mind unlocks
its secret Milky Way,
as love whispers
in soft cadence,
finding words to
erase learned woes.
O beloved sunrise,
color me in
sighs of silence,
like rhymes of roses,
a vanilla villanelle
etched from
the exquisite essence
of a cosmic consequence,
leading me into
the arms of light,
as the lamented night
bent its empathetic knee
to the seraphic sight
of soul-satisfaction,
whilst pained pulse kept
solar seconds ~
counting constellations
within my chest,
curating confessions
from crestfallen stars,
sewing scars with
sparks of saffron and salmon…
and I ponder ~
is this a diamond dream
spun within
an awakened dawn
of glistening gold,
to home me in the
healed harmony
of your tender heart,
with acrylic
incantations of citrus flame,
as I am luminous layers of
a complex canvas,
aching for compassion,
awake in
e c l i p s e d
stillness,
like the supernova sun
devouring
the silk of its own sky…
yet even in this
aesthetic
fulfillment of
faultless infatuation,
I memorized your meteor showers,
flourishing in the thought
of rising beyond
the demise of despair,
to become the only pattern
across the fabric of faith
in your duvet of damask devotion,
no longer tripping
on temptations,
but
t r a c i n g
the cashmere curves of
reality ~
picturesque portrait
of a
passionate promise, paradise painted
forevermore…
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