Acrid Remnants

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

I am counting the beads –

crystallized sentient breathings,

the solemn diamond from the chisel foreseen.

I am the biting wind of acumen,

the wine coagulated in the veins of ennui.

Come down the twilight,

that I may lay amidst the flowers

of this ancient absurdity,

and gaze through the dust and skulls’ eyes

to gain insight into the honeyed portal

which the masters called

the harmony of the snake pools most mortal.

Come down the twilight

upon the relief and trampoline of a canvas

which rests beneath the will of undying conquering.