By
sunfall this love, as sunrise to koans, falling by grace: such ash and
whispers, this divine leaf, colored in seven tints; as chase to winds, this
glen of trespass, invited to kingdoms; to muse by virtue, this darkness as
beauty, this light as devastation; as time would ponder, those damsels aflight,
as seated so closely to refuge; this curse by love, as hassled ethics, to want
by nature to ravish—this fair maiden, as love so treacherous, this night of
treason’s affairs; where days are blighted, as mornings are ‘deemed, this
sitting betwixt fires. We purge as nestled, those soothing melodies, that
dulcet intonation; as crying treachery, this feeling by winds, to have betrayed
our staunch refusals; while more to shimmy, this fortress of linchpins, avoided
by nature such lusts; to curtail nothing, while falling asleep, filled by
courage this enchantment: that welkin grin, as piercing low, to arise a bestial
dragon; where times were courteous, abed infernos, drenched in nectar’s sweat;
to temper a tantrum, while fully at faults, to have loved such as whimsy. By
sunrise our tears—our damsel must to flight, to transverse kingdoms; where touch
is cruel, this needs to release—this something of fatal love: our family feuds,
adrift impermanence, betroth to cruelty; that fountain’s hand, as reaching at
souls, to drag one willing this chase: if love is poison, we perish asleep, to
avoid such wretched slaughter: our soothing nightmare, as such cryptic gems,
afforded but one term a kiss: those strings of fingers, reaching at forever, as
diamond toes tear through meadows; to greet as fated, that chariot of love—so
vexed unto trembles. Our years are more; our secrets to towers; a pair at
cities as thieves; this immortal flight—our immortal damage—as such as souls
lives listlessly; where roses blush, as lilies shed color, while gardenias
bleed prose; those shivering times, to hold betrayal, as arts from childhood;
to see fair disdain, this kingdom of riches—our minds growing in powers.
