Nevermore; Blue Skies

A Sestina I wrote a while ago.

When all light fades down the road at night

and wind dwindles long in the skies,

there’s a man that resides among shadows,

and fog; exhaled by the breath of his ease.

And he heaves, lo’, to the lips of the living, and eyes

veiled, with the lure of the dark.

 

It is He who beckons our taste for the dark,

He who enthralls each night

with indulgences, lush, as black velvet to eyes

he could brandish away our thoughts of blue skies

and oh, how we fall to a tender ease,

with the Eden of Life, bore in his shadows.

 

Again, he pines for us in whispers and shadows,

and we come to his call--Lord of the Dark,

drunk in the madness, high with its ease

of comfort, as we mellow in the night;

hoping, desperately, for late morning skies

no longer dreaming for that blue in our eyes.

.

 

Oh, for that dwindling blue in our eyes!

At last, it ends, and we marry to the shadows,

nevermore to wake upon those jagged blue skies;

with all we have, to He who owns the dark.

We pine for his whisper, clinging to the night

while he carries our sin with no burden, but ease.

.

 

Now in that whisper, we gathered no ease,

what world were we brought to, fooled by our eyes?

This picture of madness had bound us to night;

such we wanderers, addicts, and loners in shadows,

too full, were we, from perpetual dark!

How too soon we fell for, nevermore; blue skies.

.

 

But in fear, do we dig to our homes in those skies

above us, no more shall we seek his ease!

Now we crave for light in the blackest dark,

clawing our hands up above with new eyes

for fear of that man, bore in the shadows,

and wander ‘round anxious at the wake of night.

.

 

He beckons us now in the night, shadows

shrouding us with new eyes, but no ease in the dark,

for, nevermore; blue skies.