Our times are dark as the midnight hour, when all must unmask
Candles lined your thoughts
In the crafted soot of your inner mirrors
The things you would not allow yourself to see
Not for some fear of depth but more for mere pleasantry
The sparkle in your eye
Rose with a dark red resolution to the meniscus
And formed divergent ripples on your surface
Some profound sadness bursting in the transitional moment
And settling in a cool rosé smoke
Through which shone bright like a diamond in the rough
The bitter desert sun
A perpetual calling in your dry psychology
The mirage of sweet wine
And candlelit blackness
A contemporary denim torn for your machismo indulgence
The façade of grace an infinitesimal point to flock toward
Journey ever on
She begged you to leave behind the desert of reality
Where apathy was your cloak
And enter the mirage of life where emotion held no ground
And all was truth in reasoned eyes
Your ripples are your salvation said the pond
They speak to the depths of your solitude
They beg you to come back
Over a glass of Spanish fine
Slate your bitter smile with each caress of the stem
The midnight river was the tears you refused to cry
You needed the bitter remedy to make sense of your porous heart
Always filling your glass with devotion
So long as there was nothing left for you
The administration of freedom your box
Mechanisms to harness your spirit
To the branded thoroughbred
Spin your mane with the finest yarns
Just to keep the warmth in
And how is it these poet’s sleeves are filled
With fine holes of considerable depth
Yet all that matters is the imaginary number
Dancing through your mind at the end of the day?
And even that is meaningless as you slip into a waking slumber
A dreamer in the veil of life you carry on
A frugal spirit carving beauty out of nothing
To find a home for thoughts like blooming flowers
That would perish in the structure of the mirage
For lack of timely watering
Yet free to blossom the desert
Even as the valley of death is yawning
And the stems are sulking in the shadows
Bereft of any poignant sadness to softly mumble on the wind
In hopes the soul of the world would take note
And bring your spirit back to Him
The poetry dried in your mouth
Kneeling prostrate for the judgment of your rhetorical soul
The answer was becoming
You were nothing more than your thoughts
Than your dreams this desert high
Your reality was a mirage you’d found it proper to deny
And because there was something more
Something in the way that could not be defined
But pined nonetheless for you
Whenever you closed the door
And the whimpering of that spirit kept you in the sky
No matter what desert you were crossing
And why should it abandon you now?
Sift sift sift your soul
Gently through the sand
Consistently, peacefully, methodically, patiently
For somewhere in the desert
On a wild gypsy night
A mirage will rise before you
Your hearts will mend the stars
And love will fill your sky with an ancient lullaby
Peace will be your sands in the arid land of souls
And silver flowers will blossom
From the earthen rains that visit
Upon the yawning valley of death
That lies deep in the middle of darkness
No there’s no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches
The sun will rise again