Do you truly believe that I have torn through the centuries with invisible claws
Do you truly believe that I have torn through the centuries with invisible claws,
unveiling the arteries of time like strands of silk,
only to evaporate into the mist of forgetfulness?
That I have ravaged the peaks of celestial laws, tearing the throat of destiny,
until its blood wove itself into the fabric of your name,
only to unravel like autumn leaves?
I have rewritten gravity, making it kneel, contort,
to draw every atom toward the sound of your sacred breath.
Empires have collapsed in my palms, for I refused to hold
anything other than your essence, which I adore like an eternal altar.
And yet, you stand there, asking if I will stay,
if I will rot like the others, if this fierce love
will completely devour you and spit you into a chasm of oblivion.
Tell me, how many suns must I slit at the throat, with their blinding light,
before you stop seeing me as a relentless blade?
How much of the cosmos must I tear apart, star by star,
until nothing remains but the proof of my path to you?
Even if I engraved your name on the altar of every fallen galaxy,
you would still flinch, as if my devotion were the meteor meant to destroy you.
But darling, I have already destroyed the heavens for you, set the laws of nature ablaze,
made ruin my incantation, just so you wouldn't have to.
And yet, you ask me if I will stay, to face the winds of forgetfulness.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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