From cinder and spark comes a rising spirit,
as sagacity soars on the breath of the wind.
Organic, tangible, alive with the smell of nurturing seedtime.
A faithful follower of your bold distinction;
an unbearable calling of purpose bestowed me.
Descant duality plays over my doubts,
as the morning song lilts and wanes with an assuredly rested hand.
To be all I can weighs a heavy burden on betraying thoughts;
timeworn lavender and sage frequent an ancient musk, left seasons ago.
I am the vagrant essence, unwanted by squall and tempest –
Caliban, the beast of no man, left to breed alone.
Oh hear my petition, I implore thee sweet mother,
my inclination for rebirth; only a matter of time as death arranges my expiry.

Perforated and gentle, like leaves in the Fall ready for tearing,
but gravity conjures me dense and bulbous – dulcet tones whisper in my ear;
like forethought in Prometheus and afterthought in Epimetheus.
To walk a line of shame and pride as sycophants flick their forked tongues;
the riptide and rapture of this virginal warrior encounter salacious concubines,
as they climb stone steps to a bin-bag feast of anonymity.
Charcoal-cool disseminates in their eyes,
they are but a conduit for negative shadows to cast upon.
I pled to a God who couldn’t answer my prayers,
so long ago when faith was a welcoming friend.
Now, mannequins dance until heels crack a dusting of fiberglass and plastic,
only to reminisce the surreptitious faeries of this spectral land.
But inevitable slumber draws near, so revive your façade,
the remedy’s in mind, and never again shall we succumb to the folie à deux.