Where the sun seldom rose like the south of Antarctic, the skeleton
mourned lacuna in its sombre hideout in apocalyptic dark.
When my Cimmerian soul conjured dreams of quaint springs
for the chaotic backyards of my mind.
And I ran amok amidst the wild shrubs in
the savanna, looking for birds of paradise till
you brushed past my rusty flesh like a holly wreath.
Till the quietest whispers of daybreak,
relentlessly across the nighted Pacific
let my demons fly with yours
defying gravity.
The larks and flamingos are revered at light,
But when the nights dawn and nocturnals rise
When clouds drape the moon in a starless sky
We awake from slumber, for we are
the sworn sovereigns of the night.
The specks of iridescence are overlapped by grey ashes
When in forest, burning bright are the fearful symmetries*.
In those hours, over the kingdom of nyctophiles,
with chirps of crickets and howling of wolves
the flaps of our wings lay in harmony.
Feeding on the shadows, morsel by morsel
And anchored to the hidden moonbeams
we soar to the cosmic hurricane.
Who said darkness is fearful, for us it’s synonymous to life.
(*From ‘The Tyger’ by William Blake)
Image courtesy: Pinterest
Midnight Soprano 