What could dredge a spark from
the deepest fathoms
of grief that crushes as it shapes?
I wept for the stopping of a pulse
and a pulsing,
the perishing of a Dream
that waited for Day.
I have built a house of Words
from that hour
of short breaths and
long moments.
Words that are now for Silences
that rupture the lung,
strung together so death may
come undone;
that this sentence may be
re-storied;
that the salt may be leached
from the ocean in
my throat.
Turn, Season!
Turn, Road!
Into the light they call hope;
through the space
between sentience and knowing
where flowers of Faith bloom,
withered petals rising
into a hymn.
The calm before the storm hulls
the sleeping shoot,
the flaming germ of tumult
that lends the Cosmos
its colours.
I sought distance to be nearer
Myself.
The phoenix does not burn
to its end.
This soul-forged Dark has a Star
for its shadow.
© 2021 Lilium Candidum
Lily’s Verse
Image: twitter.com
