Through the prism of the soul, a mysterious alliance of reflections is bound
Through the prism of the soul, a mysterious alliance of reflections is bound,
Pieced together from shards of worlds lost under bare soles.
Streams of betrayal trickle over the skin, constructing ruby maps
In ten directions, to be wrung out, to be cleansed of primal anguishes.
The agony writhes, a tremor of despair suffocated between stammering sobs,
A home is built upon the canvas of reality, just to see it shattered in the porcelain of promises.
The sign of peace is vain when screams sustain an endless echo,
From the ashes of your being, the fire stubbornly flares up towards the infinite.
You tread over embers hidden beneath ash, anguish on hot coals –
Your home smokes the reddish light of dusk under the weight of silence.
The scent of cigars and the noise of fallen bottles in a symphony of shadow and flight,
Each step echoes a gathering doomed to insignificance.
A disjointed section, a star-studded rainbow with the caress of fleeting hope,
Are broken dreams and wilted wings yearning to envelop,
A flicker of the firmament, proud in the moon's reflection, testimonies of imperfect brilliance.
You are lured by the dungeon's aroma, but it's just a dream encircled by passions to which you succumb.
Rustling through oceans of quiet, the fear of the grave keeps you from the depths,
A laugh of hypocrisy breaks through, the metaphor of a cave full of echo and re-sanctification.
Be a guide on a tour of truth, if you are a helmsman on the rivers of the soul.
When the veils of silence fall, we will find ourselves in the unsaid verb, in the long-lost vow.
If I were to expose my vulnerable breath before your pure gaze,
Would you continue to kiss my wounds, to confront the red that paints your lips?
And, at the moment when scars weave stories on our skin, will you venture forth,
To embrace my enigma for a long while, even if the fire burns and sparkles within us?
Will I still be arcane enough for you, then?
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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