hacksilver I

A piece that came on its own whim and will. I wonder if she is even aware I am writing of her, here and now, with a heart and blood that burns like heated acid?
She knows, or at least suspects, and it pleases her to know she inspires such words.

hacksilver I

settle yourself on unsafe ground.
sound judgement fails when sails unfurl
and the winds curl us back to the beginning.
sinning in our self-assurance that we control
our soul. an illusion for the arrogant and ignorant.

bend to the night
white light bright
burning into your skin
to find a safe haven.
the kiss of a raven.
the piercing of a veil, thin
as the excuses we accuse ourselves
of using to keep our passions on shelves
dusty with the lust that fails.
the sails, folded and bound.
soundless our cries to be released,
our hungers ceased, the need to feast
held in leather and buckled hacksilver.
but not forever.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.