Friday, July 6, 2012

Oh Maddened Spere

Frigid mask and so self centered,
Late cocooned in silence strong.
Broken vows or spirit gifted?
Lovely, pure or mad and wrong.
Insanity, that perfect calling;
Things they never understood.
For what, so different, dimly bred,
Could be of any gracious good?
A mind so lost in all a-drifting
That never shall it whole return.
Dazed, a dreamer, ever lifting.
Unto your bloody pyres burn.
Every page beset with ink,
Or all thoughts girdled with delight,
Will cry with bitter tears and many
For the maiden of the night.
Soon enough none will forgive,
So lost is she inside the sphere
That leads to worlds, all unaccounted,
By music she alone can hear.

©2012 MLowe, All Rights Reserved 

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