Spell, from a Twitching Hand

The horizon is broken by beauty

Expectations flung aside by life

I am against triumphs that once seemed

 

So important, I’m for the human brilliance

Of a life’s indecision, the courage to redefine

The sunlit path of a fainting afternoon

 

The gleam on the snow of diabolical choice

The irrevocable sacrifice to destiny

The dry lands of immense nights

 

Where our spirituality is tested

And our faith is a barren as a blade of grass

The imminent danger is a morbid simplicity

 

I could live with that, all zen & holy

I could burn in poverty as an oil lamp

And wait for some gypsy promised land

As I tremble in a whitewashed cave

 

For the conjuration of subjective-Gold

For the starts with white pupils

And a supramental gift of green nights

Traced before dawn, hesitant butterfly wings. 

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Your personification of an unknown, flying hybrid is intriguing. What comes to mind for me is a butterfly, perhaps a dragonfly, but I presume that neither are able to stand such horridly cold weather. Maybe a bird as well; considering it soars through the snowy white.

[Eloha]

I like your interpretation Tai, your presence is very nice for me to read.