It's twenty-six step tango on page
Revels truth, in what the mind could be,
And folly, in only what the heart see's.
That sensual movement of emotion's finger
Drawing designs on intellect's chest,
Where each lingering stroke is, and
Has purpose, beyond creation.
Lost in transalation, lost in spell
The couple moves cheek to cheek,
dancing on the beaches of infinity
Leaving us their footsteps to read.
For in their wake, if one could see,
One would realise the hands of Destiny.
Thumbing through the truths in his tome,
The card dealer of the ultimate game.
They exist too in Dream's dominion
He who whispers them to meld his power.
The ruler of ephemeral allthought
Where if, and could, then we would.
They bear the brand of Desire,
That scintillating, bemusing spoor.
It, that's pawing shell ever grows,
It that resides in every living heart.
Sifting through them one can find
That wafting musk of Despair,
She who lurks in every shadow
That enters her grey-scale halls.
Some have sprung from Delight,
She who skips in every laugh.
She, who has no rules to joy,
Playing hide-seek in glass forests.
They've wandered Deliriums desert's,
Trudging through her fractured domain,
Under half dripping suns, stopping by
The inquiry booth by the White Rabbit.
They resound of Destruction's rage,
Whose solemn dirge breaks worlds.
He who lusts for the end of each, all,
He, who divines the last fall.
At the end of their slow waltz,
The whistling wind settles down.
And as flying hair veils meeting lips,
There is the sound of Her great wings.
And there is Death.
*-----------------------------------------*
1 comment:
Nice. Little dark. Very nicely done... it's like an ominous shading to a happy picture. Haven't read Neil Gaiman, so don't understand exactly,but I like it.
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