The Fire And Shadows Born
In the dark of the vesper perched
upon your slumbering eyes
together with the undulating songs of the wind
revered by the famished clocks
awaiting for a chance to slowly fade
from its constant sways of a surmised waltz;
I found the sibilant embers,
the erratic ignition of flames seethes,
and sputters like a fork of lightning
blazing from the lamentations while feigning
calm behind the obdurate clouds
and with every elusive instigation of
the fulminating light upon your immortal night
I descried what lies behind the persiennes -
Your childhood still and silent but
waiting for peace in agog quivering
running and shoving and marauding haplessly
through the turbulence of a fire and the angst of its smoke
to stand in the stare of the eye of it,
the very epicenter of the hailing tragedy.
Scathed and countless, footsteps marched
in the verisimilitude of a thousand yesterday,
a thousand jeopardy - through and through
you averted the gaping door
daunted of the ablaze light - red, white
garish, ashen, mad and rasping
you regressed back to your bed in the semblance
of an open palm of the earth waiting for
the futile white roses to be tossed, ready to shut close
for in the end of the radiance everything would incinerate
to traverse their own roads towards demise
like the birds brimming the vacuous sky
flying for their own sculled weather
to perch and succumb to oblivion and ecstasy
with their own lunar phases; and isn't it
better to close the eyes in the dark
knowing that you will not be left out
by the foliage of abundant shadows and
the echoing of their footsteps
that in your shabby heaven was sent to abeyance?
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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