The Thief and Divinity
"And to those Spirits that beckon
me, doeth wisdom unto him."
As the night awoke from its
slumber,
the moon
reflected a dull glow.
The thief's testimony
spoken.
The romance had ended,
love's glimmer lost,
like ancient civilizations.
The lost maiden's
heart,
broken.
Weeping cries of despair
echoed throughout the night,
like faeries,
ill-begotten.
Alchemy's desperation.
"Seduce my soul with your essence,
fancy my pleasures
with your tempestuous acts of lust
and yearnful wanton.
Take me to a new zenith,
of ecstasy, delight me,
with your cosmic love,
and inspiring creativity."
The thief, thinking vehemently,
like the roaring winds
of a harsh storm.
Crashing,
daunting,
jaunts of frustration.
"Taketh from me, my life, and
what is, so ever-precious to me.
Taketh from you death, everlasting
life, you'll see," the thief,
softly versed.
Feelings arose within the mistress maiden.
The dimlit dusk of evening,
the faeries of the forest willfully
swayed with the sagging treetops,
as always.
As the night moved on,
Death would be approaching -
The Death of Renewal.
A spiral
of chaos,
beckoning,
sheer agony.
Direction is found,
time is restored,
the phantasm sways and ripples
with each pulsation the stars emit.
As the night,
still approaching
with a hunter's prowess,
opened up,
like a mother,
to her child's embrace.
Suddenly. . .
Venus cried out,
shining,
a most vibrant array.
May we, consider
for a moment,
spectral thief
and mistress maiden,
these abstract perils
of a ferocious Satan.
Retaliation came
from the supernatural duo.
So softly they replied. . .
The love that was made
was with
the deepest passions,
neither faulted.
In full bloom,
a blossoming
yellow rose hearkened,
a new day,
the Sun exalted.
Copyright © Trevor Morse | Year Posted 2006
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