A Gesture, By The Ghost
all is gone now
the revel of which that seeks its path
let it be tenable in your silence still
give it an understanding, alas, not a tongue...
else shalt it rebel, i warrant it will!
in cold pursuit of mystique night
remains a journey still concealed by sight!
for until the judgment of which, i myself arise...
shall i dwell in this, and live in thout eyes!
the Spirit came, ar't of any face...
but of a steadily pattern and of such a pace...
an element as immortal as itself...
maketh the night hideously safe, as we are...
fools of our nature!
wretched upon my spine...
the vile of un-seemingly virtuous words of mine...
she came in gesture, a darkness that spoke so fine!
of a life, eternally unlike our own.
waste maketh of it many be...
most, maybe slow, of all to me
haste, more godlikely reason, in youth
that eternally cries in me!
alas, the night, say all, that was made for rest..
troubled say it i, yet not for me amongst the rest!
the darkest of my internship gives them leave to sleep...
whilst mine of previous mention, drags me well too deep!
in this false world, to which you say good night...
since thou hast brought my morn of youth
at last how in shame she shrunk in light...
i quit thee from my thought, and i offer thee truce
seeketh, in the night such peace and have found such light...
for how clear could one man's darkness be...
without the sun in sight?!
uncanny was that shade, where to have seen clearest,
than in any day i might!
but swiftly the clearness would fade
and would leave me with my demons to fight!
By:
The Black Iris Of The Luminous Imperious