![]() endymionA Poem by AnonHimMooseIn the midst of the ripples watery consonants i pine and muse upon the forest sodden times, when at my sight stood gathered meadows outstretched below the skirt of light wedding companion to the pipe among the heavens of flowers cupped scents that played for all the whispering flocks blooming in their fleece cloudly woven to steal permanence from the sky unscrutable depth. I was the shepherd of man's lost secrets, that in the reeds retained by the bare rocks still bows to the maker that once knit the land to the tapping of his clogs and horns, on the mountains pinnacles pillowing the eagles flying nuptial screech. I was within the caves of dreams burrowed nights lifting the sole of my feet beyond earthly communion and higher and higher i soared in my daily steps attending to the grass luring majesty. There i followed green slopes, that run with labyrinths of oblivious shades and mischievous complexion till i arrived at the mountain spring virginally releasing the dried stones excruciating friction. In the clear waters i held the view of a lamb bathing in the purity that its reflection gave to itself. The crystal flood rived on its mantle the woods pensative shelter to the fireflies meteoric dance as when the eyes close to the morning sudden explosion and all that is seen is the mind tracking its stars. I could not see below the shallow image that the instant of beauty imprinted on me and i thought i beheld the moon cocooning to mortal form for regenerating her limbs. The vision struck me to blindness and in what i thought i knew i could not move to experience what more was there to; for any wolf can cloth itself with a fleece of immaculate and eclipsing treachery chimed by the shimmering begging of the lamb eyes. but the wool gets stained in the end and the glitter that once shone in dream leaves to the naive shepherd the view of the raw material that desire was crafting its iron fence with. As i approached the figuring light i was torn by its dendritic fangs and bleed, my flesh awakened to cruelty, and the wound exposed to reality unable to find in memory its suture; now i can hear in its rattling pulsing the buzzing warning then absent, for seeing beyond shadowing knowledge that keeps reviving glooms at my sight for that once emerged cup of hope to get to the crystal trough in which all desire to restore the illusory relief of nuptial spring where none has yet purified its sins in_ Now i rest at the mountain feet where the river has never forgotten to bring the sounds of the cliffs where the water eroded its song carrying its turmoil to the floating logs, revelatory of passions and deceiving currents, suspended in the embrace of muddled pools that the sea has not yet engulfed and obscured. This is where i shall finally meet selene, the migration of my soul to the orbits of a reflecting satellite, coming to comb her ravished tresses in the deranged lamb that has no place in the cunning bleat that holds the flock. Rejected with crystal scars by the cainous world here i will be dreaming to find embedded the wisdom in purity that does not blind, that moves to follow and be followed, as shepherd and sheep and flock at once, in the shared hearing of distant waters overwhelming the aridity of ravenous throats. © 2019 AnonHimMoose |
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Added on July 13, 2019 Last Updated on July 13, 2019 Author![]() AnonHimMooseprague, Czech RepublicAbouti once believed in stories_stories are what we are made of and it is in stories that we constantly seek to make ourselves a present to be given to others_but i have lost faith in how i can be represen.. more..Writing
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