The sweet tunes of the soul bells
Echo in the depth of eternity
Composing a divne symphony.

Light and darkness, hand in hand
Fight and subside on the quiet land.

Things I haven't told, maybe never will
Reside and smolder, in heart fulfilled.

The sweet tunes of your soul bells
They save you and bring you out of the hell.

There is
no dark.
Nor light.

Just me.

Feeling.

Filled.
Empty.
Refilled.
Empty again.

**** it.
I am not a bottle!
Here,
watch me
splinting
a dumb heart.

There.
No dark.
Nor light.

Take her sidereal night,
its darkness
and the shimmer in it.

Draw a co-secant,
a beam,
in your full-light trace.

The script is embedded,
it runs on its own:
see?

A pulse,
myriads of whirling suns,
a blaze within her,

a firmament
for a cotillion,
a constellations' jigsaw.

Her night breathes,
in symbiotic pace
with its aural lover

and, within its velvet,
darkness is an indigo,
drunk on orgastic throb.

15.5.2015

She watched the guild
from afar, its yeast of unrest.
In her nomade pace

she wandered to choose
the wind and a river.
Self exiled

from edenic insights,
her quest was love immunity.
In a make believe sortilege,

she tattered her red laces
and marionnetted a will.
Rain fell: she was but a pretender.