Armored cavalry aligned in rows
Against gated stone masonry,
Await with abated breath
As shadowed sundials surrender
To the ascending moon.
Condensed atmospheric vapour
Settle into droplets on leaflets,
Gliding down exhausted valleys
As water scorpions swivel and scurry
Across unidentifiable flesh pieces.
Archers point their swerving bows,
Releasing descending kinetic energies;
Of choices in redundancies.
Seizing engrossing aggrandized attention in death;
Morally activating caustic, corroding, scathing contrition;
As epidemic discomfort spreads in dexterous manipulations;
Spurring consequential acts of feeble emanation;
Seeking evidence of true relinquishment or obstruction;
Delayed responses fueling remorseful regret;
Doubting the reception of outstretched hands;
The outcomes serving as proof for fleeting love or loss;
Reciprocal fascinations are entertained whimsically;
Bereavement forces acknowledgement of powerlessness;
As reluctant reverberations resolve to take preventative measures;
The horrid shadow of delusion
Pierces its fingers into my existence.
“What is wrong with you,
You are supposed to
Be focusing on projects.”
“I found passion.”
“You’ve allowed yourself
To be consumed
By something weaker,
“What is it?
Is it an apparition?”
“You don’t even know.
A fucking fabrication.
You don’t even know.”
Its depth took over me,
There was a world to see.
The plans we made
Ripped in ultramarine
Sheets of an aberration.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Place that drive
In other things
“The sea is important.”
“Not when its existence
Is a question.”
Its the creatures
I can’t discern.”
“Being uncertain is a part of life.”
“But I need to know.”
Star splattered speckles
Expansive matter twinkling
In hues of colours
You can’t compress.
Sparkling, radiating cosmic glory,
Collided into mine;
Tiny in world of no intrusion.
In every piece there was substance
Swirling, extending, finally
Interweaving, tendril vines,
Found their way
Into my own.
Inspired by her presence
Admiration extruded my core
Information is readily available to those who seek it,
As if I was unaware of it.
But she wasn’t
She had a body, a soul.
She was someone
I wanted to know and abhor.
It was all conjecture
Or the intangibles
She wasn’t writing about specifics
The misdirected arrow was without purpose
She was not a huntress.
She only knew what it felt like
Still this emptiness devours
This faded ochre olive landscape
Where dreams imagined
Dense deep green forestation.
Loss is loss,
Be it imagined,
Because I thought it reasoned.
She was an oracle.
She prophesied the living future.
Or was it her own destiny
She saw in her divination,
When she spoke of prisons,
Chalked marks along the walls,
Tallying up the days
That would be passing.
Within his hands he held a promise
I had sought since the first time I had fallen
Perhaps long before the premise.
Even if it may not have been pointed in my direction
He had shown me love, understanding, predilection
I wanted to know the wisdom, the knowledge radiated
From inside the lines he had written.
What was this creature known as man, I wanted
To know it. His soul piercing stare infiltrated
My senses, my body. But I didn’t possess
The clairvoyant vision he had been granted
In reading these words where we profess
Our basic fundamental existence. Venerated
Cajolement could have been generic
Attracting those who turn to writing. But it felt specific.
But I know
Not all that different.