FOR YOONGI

THE LAST

It is a cage of sinews and clock

ever on the cusp of a beginning,

on the verge of an ending.

It is the keeper of your Destiny

even as your vision crumbles.

Will or thought could not unwrite

its Rhythm; you know its Music

as it echoes through your form,

but you could not possess its

depths and breadths.

Would that you could see

the numinous Light in your eyes

brimming Love born of a

mystical melding of struggle and

skill. Your course was laid

as cartographer of Souls,

as chronicler of its Seasons.

Your pain beats and breathes

as you emerge

from a sunless haven,

speaking words I no longer have.

Yes, I disavowed

Question and Answer.

Metaphors and metamorphoses

have forsaken me.

And you ask if I could stifle

the eyeless stranger in my mirror?

Your chords rain blue gold,

a mosaic of Time and skies

piercing the shell I have worn too

long like an ornament.

You wound me like a broken God;

your anguish storms and glowers.

Yet, triumph is the whispered core

of your song, the tyranny

you swallowed forging its spine.

How intricately you plot awakenings!

I hold your bequest to me,

an indigo strand darkly bright,

a treasure of and for the ages.

On its gentle strength, I now string

moments and memories,

visions and words seeking to

constellate on tomorrow’s pages

in an act of truest redamancy.

#SonOfMyHeart

© 2020 Lilium candidum

Lily’s Verse

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