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...