02 Jun Madrigal [IV] Run Dry The Twin Rivers
Posted at 16:44h
in Poems
Whistle the ballad of the fairy-breeze
Heralding the eve of retrograde rain
In dark hour drift of doldrum-seas
Every hour the final hour we remain
Towed undercurrent in times as these
Aesthetic perverted for nothing to gain
To shallow winter caught in the trees
A spark in the void would never deign
The gates of Eden shut for Death, his lament
Left dry the arroyos’ ephemeral descent
All is not one, all is not two
All can be counted, but not by you
Art preserves not the artist unobserved
Nor homes for the stars all undeserved
Idyllic is where the blue meets the green
After withdrawing winds carry the night
They say it calls, because it is unseen
Undefiled by cold unbeliever sight
But quiet is the haunt of the once-serene
Even if its echoes persevered despite
To orbit the palace of all it could mean
Petals unfold for the darting flower-light
If it sparks, it rings, it tastes of gasoline
Glassy hearts calcified by spears ever-bright
Things preserve not the maker unobserved
If Death can be killed, so too those he served
What is primeval is all the more true
All can be counted, but not by you