Under the tuneless moon, followers of his greatness then shall swoon.
His red lips aglow with lustre, yet in those dainty eyes there lies-
the shadows of his solitude, his soul drowned by tears he cries,
for of deaf roses who swoon, he longed for a lover of his tune-
the tune of his loneliness.Golden be his smile like Autumn; yet Autumn be his dying soul,
though amidst his gilded complexion, he longed for the affection
stolen from him by Death's complexion, he then lost all protection
once belonging of his serene skies n'er dull, yet Death stole her soul-
the sister with all sweetness.In his quiet presence, sang the warm songs of his quiet reserve,
his voice aglow with soothing scents, scents of his faint ghost of a soul.
The longer he longed for her lost soul, the more fragments he let go
unto the forgotten abyss of dead souls, for his mind no more than a blow
of soulless breeze in darkness.As the greying roses bloomed in a dying Spring, there laid the ashes
of the last of his lyrics of love, for upon the swooping dove-
Under the dove's soft wing, there laid the drowning man deprived of love,
his eyes dull under Death's white dove, his soul ready to seek her dove-
yet his soul already left-
soul's ashes lost in darkness.
YOU ARE READING
ꨄ 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑ꨄ
PoetryLife and Death; Joy and Sorrow. They're just two wings to the same body.