…bring it on — Olympian poetry
Have I left you in my wake
Never to forsake…but wresting you from my callous dreams
Like some sweep…whence it may seem
Love’s most forlorn offerings are wont to hide
Where pride becomes a lover’s fall
And into another’s arms one be drawn.
By random chance or be it by doubt,
Not abandonment, but to seek out
That of the heart — and even then — a melancholy call
O love be gone before such a fall
Before doubt is cast — another day be done
Another moonlight night before that setting sun
The morn, before it, then dawn
Be gone
This lover’s folly, become no more
- not even melancholy
And from within my heart let it be known
My instinct is love — let it be shown
Sown — freely
With even the most bold…if one so dares
Yet, my dear, love has come among us
Burdened us with its desirous reckoning
Anointed us in its seasons
Such that we now dwell in the fraternity of the damned
Mocked, traitors
Bound in the throws of its infamy
Such are the vicissitudes of its unnerving fame
Until such a time sin be called back from the ages
From the dead
And granted clemency — immortalized
To dwell in that derelict house where only truth is perceived
