Enchantée

Burning molecules ionizing, so much so,
That a godlike light labeled as plasma forms
And lighting strikes from the hands of a God reaching sadly only a stone’s throw
Inscribe among these fragmented parchments heaven’s broken tempo

Do I dare face the agony tied to a lonely tomorrow alone?…

Who knows what off brand chemistry will infest the air
Hence, I ask myself is this the strength that I claim to bare

Enduring a self-inflected pain that is slowly eradicating my heart
Lying to myself saying “the marrow shall be bejeweled with brightness”
Believing that the steps I take are bring me closer to an angelic star
Deluded views of paradise now seen as sacred scars

For, the more I reach, the more la lumiere’ pulls away

Because, always has sun traversed across that open ended sky therefore,
Perceptional-ly the actuality of my efforts have in reality been just a wasted stand still
The generosity belonging to a vivified vanity shares it’s undying will…

…Such laboring hope can be such a trifling and terrible thing…

But, I can stare deeply into this everlasting frigid void for an eternity
Although, my fragile grip on time would certainly be consumed
And, I may forever become lost to these memories
Which, I had once for a life…that I had once lived; An existence never to be forgotten

Forbore a dream est…a la vie…or…est a la mort…
A riddle captivated by hamlet, thereby me too I suppose
I long simply as a man missing a part of his infatuated soul thus,
Enchantée am I via my own crippling woes; imposed upon by this enchanting delicate rose

Nevertheless…C’est la vie, mes amies…
…Yet, I must say, Oh what a rose in my life she was…

~ Paradise’s Poet ~

the_painter-s_honeymoon

6 comments

  1. I have read this several times now. Melancholy, yes, but extremely moving. I sense the moon orbiting a singular life without his rose, now gone and returned to ions. I am deeply drawn by your words.

  2. Oh my, I am fascinated by your words. This piece oozes of elegance. <3 I especially love these lines,

    "Forbore a dream est…a la vie…or…est a la mort…
    A riddle captivated by hamlet, thereby me too I suppose
    I long simply as a man missing a part of his infatuated soul thus,
    Enchantée am I via my own crippling woes; imposed upon by this enchanting delicate rose"

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