Some monuments to love will never die
but sleep entombed far from the nous of day.
A haughty host, of paramouric guile,
with minarets so sharp they stab the sky,
can live forever in form-starched array,
and shame a humble eye bequeathed of style.
Yet, no life courses through blue mineral veins.
No hollow vale to love can unwound time.
It's built upon a caste of low remains
whose eyes stare through facades to death sublime.
My brethren, come, and gather up your stones.
The earth was never meant to lug dead weight
of transient domains. Those noble bones
shall lighten kingdoms time will not negate.
Shimmer: In Memoriam L.B.
A tender pain rises from out the blue,
and lands aground into a velvet void.
My light cannot deny the spectral hue
that shrouds the day in shadow. Songs devoid
of body play, repeating in my ears.
Angelic shade, come be my Muse tonight.
I fail, as I surrender to the years,
and couch my chin into the breast of night.
While echoes slur into a hallowed hymn,
the night winds stir, to cleanse a clammy sky.
A spiralled vortex ascends to entice
the forlorn blue pastel on twilight's limb.
Extinguished, it sets loose a final sigh
in hush.. and rides the breeze to paradise.
Replant the plots, that weigh the wasted ground,
their story has been told, and etched in blood
for all God's generations to behold.
The austere bone-white chronicles have browned
from ages of remorse. A sprouting bud,
too long confined, supplants the forests vast.
The phantom trees, still dance upon the wold,
their roots long ago forged in iron and drowned
into the sea. She crests the fostered flood
and glides towards horizons gilt with gold.
An argonaut swell, rippling from the past,
foreshadows the ends of her loveliness.
Askance she tacks the wake, a mermaid cast
a-prowl, the crooked path to happiness.
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