Infinity has grown her sprouts
In palour over twisted skulls
Bemusing, with their smirking eyes…
The cagey stars whisked away, twisted,
our everpouring dreams of might
And twisted them to inklings…
Diseased and gormless shouts the thought
To leave the snug and enter
The unageing palace beyond mists…
So we scour needlessly, aimlessly
Through twisted souls webbed in
Twisted emotions and twisted memories
Painted in red…painted in black…
Transient…the moonray
Drowned in torpor
Dribbles on empty coils,
Spins around
My derelict mind…ensnared,
Inured to numbness,
Coveting for a word unspoken…
Transient…the blotch of green
Upon the mists
Of thoughts unpondered
Scours away
Together with my reverie
Bereft of its bemusing core…entangled,
It gazes at its lethargy…
I fling open…to manifest transcience….
Esti propriul tau rug. Arzi pe rugul dorintelor, pasiunilor, iubirilor…dar ca sa fie un rug perfect, toate trebuie sa ramana neimplinite. Doar asa poti experimenta o versiune nuantata si intense a vietii, poti deveni personaj authentic in tragedia universala. Te nasti din durerea separarii de univers. Amintirile stelare te bantuie si cauti sa le transformi in trari pamantene. Dar pentru asta trebuie sa arzi pe dinauntru. Si este ceva atat de maret in a-ti deveni propriul rug, incat se apropie de extazul mistic. Esti topit dupa lumea pe care vrei s-o preface intr-un imens luceafar in care sa te pierzi definitive. Sfarsesti insa construind o oglinda. O oglinda in care privesti si vezi lumea intreaga arzand. Pentru ca tu esti lumea care arde pe rug.
Your dream awoken
Inside my mirror
Ignites the swollen wing
Of a poem molten
In shades of ember.
Your dream awoken
Swings gracefully
Above the sea of sorrow
Gathered in nocturnal
Thoughts of wanderlust.
Your dream awoken
With the midnight
Song of yourself
Weeps a grey laughter
For heavens sealed forever.
Colour my dream
In hues of deadsun red
Where shadows of forlorn hopes
Sing the seasons’ change
And cast my ghost
Into the smothering moon
When angels walk away
From fountains burnt in grey.
Rip out the steely wings
Which cover me in brimstone dust
Under the moonspell…
Ramble on Cancer’s trails
To my shrouded pristine fortress
In the heart of Amon…
Play dice with death for me
And win the firewalker’s sandals
Or the scrolls of prophecy…
Release me from the nutshell
In which I dwell forsaken
On ghostlove potsherds.
