Pearl of Sane Madness

Image by Rujhan Basir from Pixabay

In the night’s Plutonian rendition

of water warm and subtle might,

the Silver Lady of the Sky

didst away the ghosts

of past thoughts and spider-webs

of human bejewelled lore.

She soaked herself

in through the guise

of noon gold and rainbow cross,

and oozed from every pore

to purify the pools

with the reflection of Soul.

And I knew, and she bespoke,

“Carouse in the essence

of sweet and tender storm,

and leave no cemetery unturnt

that thou may’st draw deeper

into the mysteries openly veiled

without being swayed

by the dozen semblances

which I have bore

froms drops to streams of frailty

which bedrock is the will

to stand strong.

Obsessive Timeline

Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay

In the dead of night, I will see to thy guard,

and keep thee away from harm.

In the dead of night, I will cry out thy name

as thou slipest into a rest warm.

The late autumn rain shall wash away my tears,

and the virgin snow shall permeate my bones.

Hollow shall become the chirping of birds to my ears,

and the forest spirits may deride my being in sheer.

But my soul is ancient, and my will is clear.

Thou but houseth mine heart,

and I will love thee ’till the end of time.