(January 2002)
O, Love I have never felt before
How chastely Thou art
Thou exalt above stellar heavens
Thy lucent eyes
Piercing me deeper
Than sanguine light of dawns
I beseech Thy love
How obsequious I am
Please, Hark to my swan song
My jocund dalliance
I play the windpipe sweeter
Then Satyrs summoning Autumns
For even sultry springs come bitter
Under an omniscient moon
For even obsidian rocks
Aren't blacker than my eyes
In moist nights I shalt wander
Haunted by my lyrical vice
My heart merely congealed
Quailing eyes sorely bedewed
My galled heart engulfed
How impious are my desires?
How Godly are these words
In sentences driven by orchestral splendor?
O prithee!
Share this aching religiously
For I am sick at heart
Knowing Thou art not to be with me
I am a slave to my lofty emotions
Trifling in a vilified poem
Thou art my Elysian sun
More radiant then a thousand stars
But mirth shalt not be for me
For I am an emotional artist
Dwelling in Aphelion
O, My tattered soul
What hast Thou become?
I am disrobed by time
Another battle not to be won
I tried to soar to grace for her
But fell down in bitter agony
I am now fevered yet cloistered
Writing my grim philosophy
I shalt sing my dirge for Thee...