At night, when I remember our love once more,
Us, stained by the shadow that glides in, trembling beneath the gentle star,
Held tight in embrace, like two nomads under the infinite vault of pigments,
Eternally swayed by the time's carousel, in the deep of the shadow we catch.
Asleep in the heavy veil of sleep, secret and profound,
We travel in spirit on primordial paths of lava,
Whispering eternally about the calm echo that gives peace to the heart,
In dreams, we sail on an azure sea that swallows us into the vast.
And there, on the thaumaturgic beach of uncertain dreams,
In the ignorance of tomorrow, of our bifurcated presence,
We wait for love to be the alchemist, spinning lead into gold,
Yet still together, still eternal, with the end always a step away.
Our love, a painting in the shadows of Caravaggio of souls,
Does not ask to be deciphered but dreams to fly without bounds,
And if we shall wander among the days, the love that bound us,
Will perish, not beneath the starry canvases, not under the celestial spark,
But will fade in our mistake of putting it to the test.
In those far days, stars had stilts, shafts
that pierced every eye with a legendary knowledge.
There were celestial dragons
that roamed the daylight clouds,
actual myths glittered in the sunlight
as they shape-shifted through a gleaming creation.
Olympus could be found in every nest. Nirvana
explored in nightly rain puddles. Heaven was a word
for the ordinary and mundane.
Then a thing darker than the darkest of shadows,
cast its vast leathery wings over the minds
of these lesser gods and their magical beasts.
Conflicts arose in every land, fairies fled
to the timeless flowering fields of Arcadia.
Blood oaths were sworn and few there were
that would arbitrate for peace.
To this day, starlight walks elsewhere,
and we the ill-bred whelps of fear,
must travel with no thaumaturgic succor
or wit to discern
this wonderful macrocosm of us.
Mystic Vision
Until the inner sonorous cues
reverberate to make believe the surreal,
As murmurous truth
walks down in corridors
Once again to rest arcane,
to be unfolded ....
While its gorgeous radiance
dazzling white amidst darkness,
Makes all black evanesce,
unveils the thaumaturgic clouds,
to a soulful vision ....
Written May 2nd, 2016
For contest by Mystic rose
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