Touched By a Harbinger

Doppelganger, you touched me,
From desuetude tales, with redolent reach,
Raising my halo, armoured, 
Beyond all the charm of infallible speech,
Filling my lungs, punctured,
Drawing my breath, vast,
Raising my every hair, 
Beneath, this phantom limb’s cast,

For touched, I won’t preach,
A imperfect tense, gorged,
To signify, a world, visible,

And touched, I can’t teach,
An opulent heaven, waiting,
I can’t answer, what was never known,

And in tongues, I don’t conflate,
An epiphany that’s erstwhile,
With the wherewithal of penumbra’s sun,

For touched, I touch Scintilla,
To become pyrrhic, I pretend a halcyon,

My doppelganger, you touched me,
From desuetude tales, with redolent reach,
Raising my halo, armoured, 
Beyond all the charm of infallible speech,
Filling my lungs, punctured,
Drawing my breath, vast,
To exhale a world brimming,
I am the harbinger,
I am my past,
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Brown Avatar
July 26, 2011 at 10:00 AM
It feels so good to be able to sit here and read your very creative writing this morning Francois. I do hope to come back soon and read more of your excellent work. Love, Carol
Ross Jr. Avatar
July 25, 2011 at 6:46 PM
nice methapors and rhetoric.......Best wishes......Old Jack
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