Sonata for the fading contours

The time was nigh at twelve past noon,
Merope thus hanged herself from the highest stars
Thus bare knuckles wafted away to conceding psalms
On the tall tower bridged by temptation without bars

The horizon was her aim, the cerulean architects her shepherds,
While teetering through the stratus, then vividly they were seen
Clearly, the deep incisions of the soon exposed ventriloquist,
Vowed to walk the line of Life yet filled by her to the brim

The one that thought and never, never was supposed to
The blind-deaf visionary of the once that will be again
With prophecies of oak and timber laden to tired ears
Sunset inflated common grounds with its cyclic reclaim

From the interred infinite second ensuing from its source
Pouring through the Never, her enchanting perfume lingers
Employed within derisive glares, a seabed commodes the seepage
Veil of sleep amidst those eyes, the sun descended in her fingers

Deflowered - by prolonged time – virgin, whose burden knows
Incrusted affinity with progressive layers beget by hollow voices
Intoned softly, echoing through halls of never-ending hallways
Squandered seconds are abandoned due to unconscious choices

Sleep, invidious sleep, percolated through the lazaret ward
Oh immemorial time butchered at its soon preceding birth
Fingers acquainted alas with touch, gloom vistas lying ahead
Brilliance and unfruitful drunken nights however still no mirth

Sweet riverbed where have thoust flying taken thy
Fading downward the once ascending happy streams
Stranger than their own motifs and life kindly stroked by
Glinting edges circumcised the sonneteer’s sunburst scenes

The summoning of somniloquist gargantuan sequels while
Falling inert, confabulation expanded in the gift of dimness
Imagination fulfilled the condoning hiatus of the oblique kind
This song infused, our scenery, augmented to become seamless

Without breath and with a pointing heart to a afar, long journey
Black pupils’ angels present the dimmed way - a portrait of innerself
Clad with a tremulous fainted pencil, scribbled outlines named faces
Outside the circle, beyond human terrain, in the faraway sleep’s behalf

Enchanted prosperity nullified into the sick patient’s coin
Standing above the buried crowd, inhaling abides amusing irony
Filled with sardonic sentences, is the sea still undoubtedly ours to bear?
Through apologetic paths within measured steps, committed to larceny

I, the pretentious commoner, ever waiting for the voices
Yet time slips by and there are not the walls that constrict me
But what I am, (not who) when surrounded by them
{This existence judged by deeds and fulfilled forms}
Everything in mind, surpasses everything that shall ever be

As life trodden grass, the breeze assuages another day
For you vagrant wanderer, picking leaves from old trees
Fearing Life with such acuteness, that you refuse to live It
And the memories refused to be lived reasunder on elegies

Posthumous whilst breathing, starless sky opens to starless stars
Cursing time and life becomes the treasure for the healthy-rich
With eyes turning within the opaque flavors of transient friends
Asking to what ending and which belonging beginning’s breach?

In the somberest hour of this garden of shadows
Sleepless moments shifted along a shoreless sea
Closed eyes saw beyond higher mortal achievement
The ethereal essence forged, for one, in Limbo’s serenity

Sheltered our eyelids with sleeking fog, hide and seek
Lacking of scenario, enlightenment now losing sight
They were nights of days at the morose distention of years
Strummed to inner decorous, as passing birds taking flight

Life will hurt only for a brief lifetime - ghosts whisper
Sliding in their abide within ashen color deprived halls
Onward we lurched, hesitant with the concern of which
Beyond our earthly grave, the world will even there reach

N. Ego
by joel nachio