How canst thou oblige true essence,
truer in compare to fewer
virtues iridescence truer
than the white in blackest hue,
to fall selflessly in thy lieu,
How canst thy memory remnant
of the days of wholly splendour
harken that so aft an fore,
days of yon, suns of yore,
reminiscence felt no more,
Velvet curtains in the winding
cadence of thy fleeting dreams
whether of the moments passing
or those past in parting seams,
Innocence, virtue no longer
Innocence, a sight unseen
of dust a’dust, yet ash a monger
settles ‘pon thy weary means,
with which thou deign living lies
though ‘pon that living swore undo,
didst thou not in lieu of die
breathe in innocence untrue,
Wert we not as infants are thus
mindful of etiquette most feigned
Art we not as infants are thus
obliging innocence as deigned.
Today the sun fell pregnant with sorrow,
beyond the horizon its servile bow
regret poignant of a broken vow,
wondering anon of a greater morrow.
Hath no taste when so compared,
thy lips nor wine, neck nor breath
to this love of sweet despair,
wounded hopes sans tourniquet.
That we may saunter amidst
yet fields of hanging skies ungrey
by dint of askance might I deem
this frolick strangest sans gusto.
Pardon the ashes of one once violet,
I the shriveled fruit from the odd,
though from birth twas my soul unlit
until undone shalt I burn for a god.
Entreat thee O watchful, I the faded
turn from a parched branch now perched
upon the dangling vine of the braided
lifeless hope midst eternal scorched!
Lest I deign to feign the breathing
lest I pain the promise of grey,
embrace the sun with which is fleeting
I the embers of a Saharan day.
With which I fold my bristling soul
to thee I forth placeth cajoled,
pardon the remnants of one once whole
I the cinder of infernos cold.