The Temptress of the Cliff
The heaven's lanterns she commands,
The harmony of ocean's harp.
Her moonlit shadow firmly stands,
And merges at the hem of scarp.
As I approach, afraid to speak,
Her illustration disappears.
Alone I brave the mountain peak,
Her cosmic voice still in my ears.
Express'd within the spectral mist,
Her tender kiss, conveyed so soft.
And on her words, I do subsist;
A multitude of miles aloft.
I then behold the sight surreal,
And ponder secretly my choice:
"Shall I take flight? (My fate I'll seal),
Or will I die a silent voice?"
My reasoning was then postponed.
Her beck'ning gaze that I adhere,
Came back to seize my love, dethroned.
Her sympathy was so austere.
I saw the sky, in half was split.
Beheld the universe immense.
Her fragrance rendered counterfeit
In face of harsh liquid incense.
I spied the Owl in the monsoon,
And glimpsed the Lark with grace outdone.
The former dancing with the moon,
The latter weeping for the sun.
And in her treason, I confide,
In holding on to but her arm.
The temptress of the cliff, my bride,
Will keep me far away from harm.
And so we danced on sky-high rocks,
The temptress of the cliff and I.
Disregarding all the clocks
That once beguiled us from the sky.
And on this cliffside masterpiece,
I felt my life was then complete.
With all my joy and inner peace,
I plunged a hundred-thousand feet.
She stood there singing to the draft,
High up that rocky balcony.
With her success, she cruelly laughed
At my stalemate epiphany.
Temptation preys on ill of wit.
So brook your life's pathetic tiff.
Above all things, do not submit
To her, the temptress of the cliff.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
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