10 Oct Apollonian Chariot

Posted at 15:11h in Poems by

Sanctity burns like a forlorn star on an unspeakable evening,
So crudely remote but it reaches towards my dim perceiving.
These hosts of heaven haunt me. I am disturbed by their lights.
The bold but hateful and gentle but pugnacious saint
Fills the pages of heaven. Different portraits of knights
Staining the world with a palette of versatile paint.

But,

A tree accursed gave her testament from her softened eyes,
Anti-saints say what-is-right, not that-is-right, then (s)he dies.
Warrantless belief entered the world from her darkened flowers.
Now we cherish self-made treasures, the dogmas of dying,
Effacing ourselves if we vanquish these. With all our powers
Humans set their ramparts inward, self-affirming self-denying.

And,

Gathers now the waking army of snowy-cloaked king-eaters,
Saints who purchased sorrow at the cost of their every should-be.
Neither tarnished nor blemished by counterfactual meters,

AND THE DRAGON STOOD UPON THE SAND OF THE SEA.

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