Velvet Waltz

Yearning for the souls of quietude —

for the eyes that with wisdom overflow in mystic waterfalls —

I sigh and hum atop a mountain of hope.

I cast off the illusion that feeds off the blind gods

to be the wind that comes and goes

as I quest for the silken voices and bass tones.

Afternoon Frenzy

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

The Sacrament at last

revealed its core to mankind.

The wraith slithered

to caress him at night,

and the Last Proof slipped away sad smiled.

The Paladin of Remembrance

to the walls dragged the stain

of her defiled heart.

The blood-bound one awoke

to the furious berceuse of the stars,

and, aghast, observed the kin fight

tearing hell apart.

And if she should bleed

for a well of miry shine,

unleash the storm

to drown her ‘lone.

Her fate is accurst,

and so is his who sits upon the throne.

Incarnate the grief of her,

who for wine imbibes blood

to die alive thirty centuries,

chained to the vicious masked satire.