OBLIVION

Into a propitious battle I march,

invoking saints and sibyls,

assured of blessed vanquishment.

Ruination would not befall,

nor ignominy trail me;

I shall traverse silver-gold plains of

a depurating death

into a higher nascence,

surrendering shackles of inscience,

as Light stabs my Eye.

Astral drums proclaim

my sacred bloodletting, the pain of 

a birthbed of thorns

lifting my being from disquiet

into the sanctum of the blazing blue

beam that cleaves

the shell of darkness enclosing

my spirit, that it may breathe

the atoms of mystics, 

their visions of Truth and Beauty that

prevail as tremulations

in the ether. My dreams of oblivion 

I shall consign to starlit pyres,

my languor to the rich muteness

of eternal shadows.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: DELPHIC SIBYL

Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Artist: Michelangelo