Homage to Darkness

What mastery carved these celestial shapes,
as they fall from the wintry sky,
dancing and weaving a beguiling cape,
painting over all colours with white.

When skeletons adorn this unholy land,
a false cadence blinds our sight,
from the birth of a returning spring,
from the passing flares of the darkest light.

From his window the airs are still,
though festive plays their spirits entice;
in this season of fluttering quills,
his papers are untainted by hopeless sighs.

With whom shall he correspond,
with a heart lost in earthly chores,
the pathos of an undying song,
is the inflation of her dying chords.


With each dawn more clearly he sees,
the joys of the decaying –
wherefore they wander the familiar streets,
undaunted by encounters most fleeting.

Is not life our masterpiece?
Do we not remember in awe?
Yet from penned sentiments we flee,
profess to time of a refining plot.

In dreams we face our eternal trial,
though we jester at the princely ball;
no remorseful songs of his ghostly isle,
yet youthful vigour his mournings call.

More elegant is each glorious veil,
burying the fires of a diamond orb;
though consciousness our existence ail,
life – the greatest enchantment of all.

Published in: on 19/12/2018 at 4:22 AM  Leave a Comment  

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