Dark Grace
The surface of my homestead roads elaborate and split,
what was to claim upon the edges of the distant moons,
my thought; redemptive soul emerging from the depth of wit,
designs the winter's form with interlaced on walls, festoons.
The Mistral blows (my soul) , defines the slopes, the ridge to crown,
inside my dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
the minds foresee, their state to evolve and be renown,
while my December eyes become reflectors of its tears.
Along those roads, abandoned towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song forgotten in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be sung addressing, so, my destiny's decoy.
against the blowing winds (my soul) , stand tall to their assail.
She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
beside a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension tho' convex,
a splashing wave upon the wharf and she, the night's dark veil?
I heard her song surpassing, then, my amplitude and fast
upon the skyward billows of enormous rains to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
through gates that led to naught, and then inside the mist to hide.
Befallen Angel, she transformed her masquerade to wings,
the foggy veil resembling the droll's discolored face
because all beings marionettes are, without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes behold in mine, and her dark grace!
The surface of my homestead roads elaborate and split,
what was to claim upon the edges of the distant moons,
my thought; redemptive soul emerging from the depth of wit,
designs the winter's form with interlaced on walls, festoons.
The Mistral blows (my soul) , defines the slopes, the ridge to crown,
inside my dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
the minds foresee, their state to evolve and be renown,
while my December eyes become reflectors of its tears.
Along those roads, abandoned towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song forgotten in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be sung addressing, so, my destiny's decoy.
against the blowing winds (my soul) , stand tall to their assail.
She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
beside a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension tho' convex,
a splashing wave upon the wharf and she, the night's dark veil?
I heard her song surpassing, then, my amplitude and fast
upon the skyward billows of enormous rains to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
through gates that led to naught, and then inside the mist to hide.
Befallen Angel, she transformed her masquerade to wings,
the foggy veil resembling the droll's discolored face
because all beings marionettes are, without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes behold in mine, and her dark grace!
