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 © Francois Hillebrand | Year Posted 2011