The Diamondheart Cycle: evocation

The seventh and final poem from the poet's new work to his totem muse previously known as "The Siren". He freely admits that, despite where it falls in the cycle, this poem was written first. "We had just had a long online talk and this work just erupted out of me," the poet confesses, "then the other poems flowed in, I have well into them before I realized I was looking at a cycle being born."

Let's here it for surprise pregnancies.

The Diamondheart Cycle: evocation

Serenity is but an illusion, for the chaos of the fire is best,
tested in silence and violence, the taste of lover's sweat,
wet on fingertip and tongue, wrung from the passions passed
between bodies even at a distance, insistence on the essence
of that which stirs and cures me, your voice like jasmine
on a nightbreeze, urging me and purging me of my melancholy.

We are an impossibility to most people's understanding,
barriers that rise to skies others see as ceiling to feelings
shackled to the stones of our barren bones, but not to dreams
and the wet sense of our hungers, tired of the cruel gruel
too often served by undeserved lovers, balsa idols of pretty
mediocrities. I will pass through this space and time, for you alone.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.