The Darken Peri

There are blank faces under the leafy moon tonight,
Charred spoons lay scattered on the sandbanks
Whilst pumpkins, pale as sick vultures, tumble
Down to the river,
Making blubbering splashes as they hit the frothy currents.
What is this starlit place?

Wait! A figure glides along the waters.
It has wide marbles for eyes
That trickle lost light from their deepest vaults.
A moon spirit lost in the stygian night.

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Frozen amelioration

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Etched in the Neolithic dawn,

The hexed belt of Orion;

‘Twas then but a symphony of Azure

To the tribal enchantress,

In ecstasy amongst her heterodox forces.

From the splintered lute

To the strains of Pachelbel,

That Dust, taught by the ark,

Doth climb the steep crags

From the abandoned pits

Out into the surreal daylight;

They blink in Ambiguity’s glare.

Is it but a mirage, their newly found glow?

Were they lured by some fall’n angel

To hasher nights?

To eons where the lofty spires

Do rise up o’er the billows

To howling zeniths.

Our crowns wrapped in frantic heights,

The visionaries conjure a new philosophy:

Those celestial Craftsmen

Become the ticking engines of One greater.

Chords of Scorpius woven into orbit

By Aristotle’s euphoric cries

Of ‘eureka!’

Now I stare out through a window,

A plane sketches the open clouds,

In the calm, I believe it sounds:

A stir in the ether;

The burning of the Alexandrian vaults

In Rome, as Zeus takes up his bolt.