Crafted plain on coronets
Behold the mask of Xanadu
Let go of all of your regrets
And let this love encompass you.
The suffering shrieking loving gasp
Of women falling in a trance
Of saintly love, the sacred asp:
I know the dancer from the dance.
I court, infer, and interfere
With tongues of silver, bright and clear,
Beyond the thought of mortal souls,
A shivering when the bell tolls.
The cast of painted silhouettes
Are broken, drunken, underdressed
And holy, pious, heaven bound;
Their thoughts of Jesu make no sound.
Redeemed at last by broken wings,
The blighted hope of better things
Declines, and tilts its head to say
"Watch as the birds all fly away."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment