FOR YOONGI

FOREVERLAND

 

Music’s soul, her favoured scion and archivist,

keeper of her Golden Key,

your melodies flow like silver blood through

the earth of Time into the Heart of Life’s Tree.

Yet you war within,

darting as a wingless Angel through

the primordial Force that seeks to crown you

as though it were a dissembling adversary

or some inscrutable mystery.

Wistful whorls, fractals of fulminating grey,

pervade a sky of your own making,

one that ballasts itself, for it was fated to reign,

to rain spangled indigo into parched ages.

It casts you this bruised spell

as a raging water spirit conjuring storms from

dark whirlpools of your unquietus.

Yet you rest in its eye, for you grasp its meridian,

your spirals interpenetrating

though apart, its fabric textured as your quill,

its striations the hue of your ink.

You are as the infinite mind that is the

womb of universes, as the weather maker who

hears a harp on the wind.

In your tempest, you find salvation,

deepening yourself in darkness, defining your

affinity even as you yearn

for wholeness, for completion, merging with

realmless, fathomless truths,

blessing a dream on its way. The power of your

story upraises on wings of light

sprung from the egg of a clear moment amid

sable clouds, shifting the veil,

remaking my senses into Memory’s River whose

song tells of the season I beheld you

from a different star.

Wait by the unchanging Moon with a blossoming

tune, as she reads you verses

from her Tome, pausing to gaze upon you

or turn a page of night,

her eyes abrim with the beauty you live

and breathe. Her radiance shall draw your words;

rhymes and rhythms wandering your being

shall gather about her brow as a halo, that you may

know these lost fragments of your self,

Child of Foreverland.

#SonOfMyHeart

© 2021 Lilium Candidum

Lily’s Verse

Image: twitter.com