Remorse

Prologue

Wind sighs madrigal along the eastern shore,

I wake in the sunlight beside my maple door.

Opening our silences to shadow caressed lawns,

We are but miracles of life's infant dawn.

A prophet painted words on cerebral trees

and sought pages of enlightenment drowning in seas.

I hold candelabra of lighthouses on the rocks

whilst specters cling to the mansion's haunted knocks.

 

Cyclones of hazel leaves drift past in autumn memory.

Serpentine, meandering rivulets flow towards reverie.

Amber dusts blow in running gusts back to me

as rapids lay beside imperial airborne tides.

 

Quicksilver wind shines mortal sin,

smoke filled crystal balls reveal the fate unreal.

I am seer, I bid  occultist view,

necromancer of the chapel pews.

casts me into octagonal hues.

 

Dark spell prism hourglasses,

refuse the desert infinity.

Masters strike their gavels

to wherever we may travel.

Quill written postcards flood her walls.

 

Verses of forgotten books shutter,

in sonata, postludes shriek with fear.

To bid remorse farewell,

the least we can see is the mirror.

Lost in a loop of seconds passing nightly

I am castaway on the sea.

 

Cogs spin reflection in the days I was at peace.

Themes reprise and gaze into eyes to find me.

Urges of return flash before my tired age;

I am to die inside my mind.

 

Plagues wash upon the beach,

I witness borders of myself leach upon transcendence.

Picturesque before my tired face

I am at pace to reach the grace I pray for.

 

Epilogue

Whispers of the weeping chorus echo in the hour,

my trail is cold though a light peers from the tower

Is this the remorse that balances on the parapet?

Is this the life I leave?