hypergolic vapours on a distant wind

on the point of preoccupation
no hesitation
at a distance I am safe from your fire
my desire burns hot enough
to burn us both to ash
passion fashions us a shroud
loud and proud it clouds reason
seasons' lesions that dig deep
and blind and bind with linen
opinion sinning and in the beginning
I would not have been so constrained
but I would have never found the couer rage
to even acknowledge the alchemy
of your light on my base metals.
I am doomed and consumed, perfumed
by a meadow I will never cross
crucified and denied
all that I would take that would break me
make me mistakenly rise in shadows
like the sun over a battlefield
where the carnage shines divine
but as an abomination to the hearts
of the parts we departed
on the heels of an illusion
that was really there, just a mirage
over the horizon


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

you should hear this with the guitars...

amethyst shard

as the demons hover head for cover
I'll lead them from the fire.
there's no pleasure in losing the treasure
we won neath the sun of desire.

follow when you can, hollow out the man
and hide inside his pride denied.
you know where I'm heading don't waste time dreading
if my presence is what the furies decide.

quicken to the moments wept, the silence slept,
the silvered glass skies reflecting a perfecting prayer.
I'll make it if I can, and if I can't, never recant
the vows you made to your heart's departed heir.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

all the pieces are true, if you can see the colours and shapes of which they are made, and understand how they fit together, their metamorphic metaphoric meteoric trails across a sky burning bright with the airless frosts of the quintessence, captured and raptured in the religion of the dancers and the dreamers.

nature rests

under packed snows, nothing grows,
but there is the patience of nature
waiting the first stray beam of light
or breeze warmer than the doomed ice
to awaken the world, one deep breath at a time.
such as it is with all things of life
all things of beauty and the dreams
that are peculiar to the earth spirits
that bind heaven and hope to the ground
and will be rewarded for their magnificence.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

absence makes the heart grow

don't presume my moment's absence
means more than lack of presence
as the day upends the plans so purely set.
I am still but one pale mortal
and can only take one portal
at a time, but my plans I won't forget.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Hey, you have any idea how much work it is to finish a book? Yeah.

sonnet: the nightmares

in the shadow of dreams we find our kind
reduced in our numbers to the few swift,
swift, cunning enough to take what we find,
making of it what is needed, a gift
to our nightmares, ebon coursers that race
to bring us to the brink of a madness,
madness that is unforgiving the grace
of our own best desires, the fires that bless
us and all with echoes of a worthy
leap, falls and faults and the failures that sting,
sting us in lingering bitter surety
that we have seen the sun, now receding,
but yet never conceding our soft prayers,
angels of light to conquer the nightmares.


William F. Devault. all rights reserved.