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Trespass into splendor blue dreams where she sleeps in a cloud bathed orb.

Marvel atop the bridge cloaked in fog as the pebble greets its ocean friend.

Headlong into telescopic mirrors and back again.

 

Trees weep crystal rain in wanderlust 

to silence all questions of the spiraled dust.

Eyes gliding through the void of twilight fears

I see emotions sprint into reality.

 

A spirit fades to the eastern sky,

my words are tinged in the polar eye.

Anthem arises on the dawning sun.

Streaks of shadow lay across the necromancer's hand.

 

Between a fabled tour of the clown and song,

a flock of frays pollute my wartime apogee.

I bid to take audience with the furor

A million written prologues lead nowhere on the gilded path.

 

Into the hellish night,

Bacchus song poisons the light

and leaves them mesmerized.

 

A genesis of starlight black

meddling in the synthesized wall.

Beyond conception in anger and mystery

the drama is poised in burgundy,

the violent spotlight goes dark.

Reviews

[Solar]

The last two lines clinch the sombre mood of the poem...and the images seem to telescope around the 'wartime apogee' creating an atmosphere.