Desert of Ice

Silence, a being most mesmerising.

Silence, an uncertainty most torturing.

A long fermata too long for a weakening soul.

The affairs for its existence I do not hold.

My heart wears a cloak, of diamond, of stones.

Little do they know, most frail I walk alone.


A broken string lashes a tender heart.

Uncertainty tortures a lover in the dark.

Bring me the hemlock! Dear old sir.

I shall pay you my life, it’s worth a little stir.

What good is this world, for thee, for me?

A bird that may not fly broods in agony.


Yet you are there, O my blessed pearls.

Forgetfulness is a virtue, a journey on which we embark.

Forgive me my heart, those wistful curls.

Music is my being, being human is my art.

Your presence enchants, your form serenades.

I am lost in your voice, in your silent days.


Ghosts are but the hauntings of the past.

Regrets are but the seeing of ghosts.

Valses in the rain, a weary soul is cast.

A letter I have written, arrived in your post.

Yet still the fogs whirl, there is much grief in doubts.

I cannot comprehend the coldness of your heart.


Yet here the finale comes, without courtesy.

I plead thee, my final word for your mercy.

How pitiful my mean! How loathsome my being!

You are my deity, yet in the dark I am unseen.

Thus my words lie, and my voices feeble.

My eyes sing to you, of an yearning so fiery.

In dreams in memories, you were kind and gentle.

How had this became a place so weary?

Au revoir, my dear, sorry for a parting so grim.

My love for you persists, when the sun grows dim.

Published in: on 13/12/2014 at 11:11 AM  Leave a Comment  

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