Deserted
DESERTED
Be brave, young child, say to that hungry lioness:
“You have chased me out of form into the wastelands”.
Although aware of dependant-rising, the rose
Is too proud to beg the lowly wine-seller for water.
And what of reason? No use to the lover
Who relies on the vagaries of serendipity;
Captains march to battle with courage and honour
But revenge is primitive, vulgar, worse than war.
Poor pathetic poet perish thoughts of unworthiness
They are the flood-rains on this desert heart;
Not the gentle rains of mercy – harsh, brutal.
Once a rich oasis now reclaimed by the sands.
Our Noble cause to enlighten…so much harm.
Awake you sleepy dreamer the wine is poured!
The butterfly moves, the Rose moves the soul,
Both transform the Garden in their own way.
There are secrets still hidden in the dirt
Painted on stone and the virulent earth.
Many are the stars that scrape the sky in falling
And have seen your mingmen and marveled.
But the Angel of Light guards the border
Making sure darkness doesn’t spill into day.
A sleek figure, eyes bright like the blue moon –
Yet why do these not show friendship or kindness?
Aside from love’s delusion no witness born –
Uriel, your face reveals no sign of truth or love.
You fool, White Feather, to think your words so magical
To blush the crimson flower and set the Angel singing.
|