Crystal bed of sentient quiescence

amidst the dark bedazzled

tombstone of solar haze.

A night of sentiment bedighted

in grim and graceful lace,

watering her wake with dry tears

of lucid bewilderment.

A brilliant spear imbued

with roses and nightshade,

the warm solitude untouched,

immaculate by virtue of rebirth.

The altar of sacrificial breath

for the alluring ambrosia of the dead

tells the tales of an ancient distress:

a sorrow of loving hell unredeemed

by the armament of the deluded flesh.

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

I had begun to pace around entranced when someone knocked on my door. Instinctively, I stood motionless observing, evaluating. Only silence filled my ears with its ceaseless chiming. I turnt my head slowly, staring blankly at the white door, as I had not completed the calibration of my eyes to my surroundings.

A red letter slid in under the door, reaching my bare wet feet. I still did not move, but rather chose to close my eyes in an attempt to hear what laid beneath the closed entrance.

Nothing moved in the misty dead of afternoon. Only the chiming of silence seemed to permeate the fabric of reality as if the very tune pronounced itself to be the principle of life.

A lie, all manners explaining how escaped me; however, it was obvious, somewhere within the composite that was me, that it was a lie. This silence was just one kind of many silences, one wrought from midnight burden musk through the arduous hand of fixed earth chokes.

Warmth dripped down my clenched fists. The crimson colour matched that one which moistened my feet. Beaten air, the flapping of heavy wings at the other side, stole my attention away from the sight of blood; furthermore, a separation, a push back from a force blew me away in place when the pressure of a body departed from solid ground in a steady jump.

Silence shifted itself upon the takeoff of that which I never saw. Turning my awareness back to my vessel, I noticed my self-induced stance exacerbation as I rigidly withheld my breath unknowingly. Inhaling, I indulged in the sweet zephyr of serenity whilst the late gold of summer glow peaked in through the cracks of the closed blinds. 

Picking up the red letter at last, ruffling waves summoned my skin to stand. With needles and pins, I tensed my back when I saw the empty script at hand.

A volcano, a choleric fire burst in coils within me. I rose and tore the door to pieces in one blow to be then startled by my own voice, which growled and roared at that which I never saw the command that I know whereto it had flown.

In the vast darkness above tarry waters, I stepped away in disgust at the cubicle illusion of the household nearing nightfall.

Silence dared to no longer chime in the bosom of darkness. The hissing whispers from no mouth now carried a distinct symphony which sequence sang of participations that, in life, I had undergone engendered by deeds of eldritch happenings. And oh! The voice of that jade alchemist! He whose lunar forging had brought the world to—

What did his forging bring the world to? And who was he whose eyes as gemstones shone sharp and cold?

Image by ArtTower from Pixabay

I walk the warmth-lit meadows of life at a time

just to abide under the ghostly shine of your charm.

Darkened clouds robbed you from me tonight

as I curled up in the arms of winter unabashed.

I shall bathe in the January rain of your wake

and purify my being from the illusion of the light.

You shall still enact the verity of the stars

and lull the thorn in sight,

that beauty be manifest through the veins of soul delight.

Embrace me and intone the rite of sprite

in spite of the graveyard upon which your face is cast.

I’ll dance amidst the rings of silvery might

if you face and remind me of that which came to pass.

Venture into the hidden paths, my distant confidant.

Your opposite child grins upon the solar crown of midnight.