The Dust of Heaven
A
million thoughts echo the surrounds of a million dreams
Incipient
pain resembles in the origin of all
Torn
familiar streets to the center gracious fall
Once
able to these lands roamed
Have
turned wrong in the field of eden
Too
rest the somber head on its white gates
In
hope for a sweet bliss to replace
The
irons of cold day
Upon
everlong winter
An
infant in orbit
Too
the winds of shade
For
all too human the constant test of starlight seams
To
divide devotion in the name of desert prophecies
To have
pity upon one who called for all
Shocked
when answered in the death of silence too leave
For
you were the mariner with taste for sea
Upon
voyage with lay of claim
So
fretful icarus now in the eyes of flame
With
the words too taste the dust of heaven
Under
the lucid reigns of alive race
Clarity
as to the vague conviction
Of
satellite masquerade
With
the flavour of sweet displace
In
perfumed garments
Impelled
in a labyrinth
Of
fitful uncertain breeze
To scale
the tempest wild
The
succulent departure of kind.
The Dance of Eventide
Jewelled
succession
The
gentle awake
In
honour of carefully laid streams
The
morrow lives now
Reason
in the clenched
Now
illuse
Rapture
of peace bounding an eternal youth
Promised
pleasures fabled so rich
In
sanctuaries of light
The
moment time bells shall ring in clear heighted echoes liberating
The
sign of chosen escaping in the structured labour fields
The
hands torn in messaging
To
find entry in new begining love brings well
Mended
in the wide smile
Perched
in the colours to find us
We
can leave cold obedience ode in the creed of life
Dressed
in touched heaven
To
witness the immaculate dawn
Images
of evoking filmic perception arise
Loosely
gathered in warm feast
To
dance through eventide
The
soul welcomes night
An
assembled prospering to roam
In
the reason of radiant dreams.
The Requiem House
Twins
on lunch in the balcony frame
Naked
in divinity
Waiting
in royal song
Sitting
in twisted flowers
The
servants brought sun
Smoking
in dust
The
wild green dream
Left
in wise feast
So
far gentle the chiming old lovers on the first wine
In
the hidden seduction of a divine message
Electing
concentration was at birth
In a
stiff driven canvas of the artistic seeds
In a
fine selection of seated imagery
Cast
chosen by the first born daughter
In a
smile carefully aware of begotten tales
Such
due hesitance awakes only in matrimony
Gazed
in the dwindle of fading youth
For
how the idle swan ever too lie heavy in the wanted repute
For
too fate
The
too sweet eclipse of words
For
you alone in the fading embers
In a
house built for truth
By Darren Lynch, Dublin, Ireland.
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