(echoes)

I
from two corners of the nocturne 
                                                our steps echo — towards the centre 
the turn of her hands tears apart 
the ever untorn
have you ever seen the cross-section of Selene
ever felt how the Night takes over you
when all is dark, we are but one silence — erect 

In the midst of the silken route 
           I bandage her cuts with lace twilight
           she asks me how we can stitch together
the ruby butterfly born of her lighter 
when the night blinds me blue

Because an encore is only for the one who has watched 
the core unfurl and unfasten from the world    
           and hurl itself at infinity with every ounce 
           of strength we Lovers can muster

 

II
the trace of a haughty sentiment 
in colors of a hushed dialogue caught 
under the linen,  laughter 
Alight 
she smiles — in the wind is a ringing of bells 
            Leaning over the fence when Light does settle
jump across to the familiar elite element
where the crowds play Make Believe battle
we in our empowered (in)tent
Free from battles
listen among fireflies that never nestle
            in their molten idleness forever sent
                                                                    -enced to people like us — little 
            soles on soil, sentient
            all we emit is love of a Nature oh so tensile

 

III
we sleep nestled in our Names
yours rolls off my tongue 
with every utterance
                        you claim your heart 
                                      is misplaced with the Ancients

‘I yearn conflict’ I say 
please, take from me as I am giving
would it ease the ache in our nations
                                      in our instance

Our ectopia I will away
The word on my tongue I cannot speak
                         scatters away to stranger tides  
and you looking up at the skies 
                         utter my name Beloved 

I am agnostic — still I atone 
pray beg negotiate 
hope a song invokes enough — poignance
    

 


IV
as we with each second rise —
we soar against our cruel Giver,
            wrapped tighter, closer, by the hunger 
of vines
Time determines you. Sing!
            the frowning flowers demand, to your lover,
out into the silent Dunes let it ring!
Our paintings testify against our Heart. 
            Of darkness, what is this sore and haunted attachment to loving? 

What is this craving of our souls for gore?
            The ghoul tightens the vines, hits our soles
            with a stick of cornel. 
We are losing
                                 silence in our brilliant prison, faith in our roles.