I Saw Him Again
I saw him again.
The last time I found him
Eating fervent fire and drinking wine
Reveling in the elegiac dusk
Uttering of cheap talks and of dusts
And on how vicariously cognizant he was
On how it precipitates and wan
From defying the plummeting
To catch the sun's elusive graze
To participate and transpire
In the esoteric feast of grace
Thus, he's reveling, to outlast.
I saw him again.
The last time I exhumed him
Thawed in the nook of the world
Like a vulpine fox, a surreptitious raven,
Perched at the hinges of the firmament
Wearily encumbered by his wry and fake smile
Malingering to part the doldrums and acquaint
With a superfluity of colours, brand new contours
Swaying with the scathes of the pendulum
Dousing the evil (replete and deplete) parting his lips,
Whittling the lulling stupors of a lullaby
Sundering the soul, the sea, the sky.
I saw him again.
The last time I muse upon him
He was enraptured by the curtaining rain
And vexed by the fandango of the sun;
They are both made of daggers to him
In his peripatetic stillness void of calm
He mused the pole-dance of the stars
Until his eyes are stark white and blind
From the suppurations of iridescent light
He searched for his unfathomable core, blindly,
And deciphered the ominous intricacy
Ousting him from the heraldry.
I saw him again.
The last time I saw him
He wore his suit of grandiosity
Graying from the long haul
His face devoid, his apathy ensconced
In the bones, in the constitutions
His eyes sprawled in the slumbering mirror
(Now half awake, half-barely-alive) ,
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poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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