endymion

endymion

A Poem by AnonHimMoose

In the midst of the ripples watery consonants

i pine and muse upon the forest sodden times,

when at my sight stood gathered

meadows outstretched below the skirt

of light wedding companion to the pipe

among the heavens of flowers cupped scents

that played for all the whispering flocks

blooming in their fleece cloudly woven to steal

permanence from the sky unscrutable depth.

I was the shepherd of man's lost secrets,

that in the reeds retained by the bare rocks

still bows to the maker that once knit

the land to the tapping of his clogs and horns,

on the mountains pinnacles pillowing

the eagles flying nuptial screech.

                                                               I was

within the caves of dreams burrowed nights

lifting the sole of my feet beyond earthly communion

and higher and higher i soared

in my daily steps attending to the grass

luring majesty. There i followed green slopes,

that run with labyrinths of oblivious shades

and mischievous complexion till i arrived

at the mountain spring virginally releasing

the dried stones excruciating friction.

In the clear waters i held the view

of a lamb bathing in the purity

that its reflection gave to itself.

The crystal flood rived on its mantle

the woods pensative shelter to the

fireflies meteoric dance as when

the eyes close to the morning sudden explosion

and all that is seen is the mind tracking its stars.

I could not see below the shallow image

that the instant of beauty imprinted on me

and i thought i beheld the moon cocooning

to mortal form for regenerating her limbs.

The vision struck me to blindness

and in what i thought i knew i could not

move to experience what more was there to;

for any wolf can cloth itself with

a fleece of immaculate and eclipsing treachery

chimed by the shimmering begging of the lamb eyes.

but the wool gets stained in the end

and the glitter that once shone in dream

leaves to the naive shepherd the view

of the raw material that desire

was crafting its iron fence with.

As i approached the figuring light

i was torn by its dendritic fangs and bleed,

my flesh awakened to cruelty,

and the wound exposed to reality

unable to find in memory its suture;

now i can hear in its rattling pulsing

the buzzing warning then absent,

for seeing beyond shadowing knowledge

that keeps reviving glooms at my sight

for that once emerged cup of hope

to get to the crystal trough in which all

desire to restore the illusory relief

of nuptial spring where none has yet

purified its sins in_

                                     Now i rest

at the mountain feet where

the river has never forgotten

to bring the sounds of the cliffs

where the water eroded its song

carrying its turmoil to the floating logs,

revelatory of passions and deceiving currents,

suspended in the embrace of muddled pools

that the sea has not yet engulfed and obscured.

This is where i shall finally meet

selene,

               the migration of my soul

to the orbits of a reflecting satellite,

coming to comb her ravished tresses

in the deranged lamb that has no place

in the cunning bleat that holds the flock.

Rejected with crystal scars by the cainous world

here i will be dreaming to find embedded

the wisdom in purity that does not blind,

that moves to follow and be followed,

as shepherd and sheep and flock at once,

in the shared hearing of distant waters

overwhelming the aridity of ravenous throats.

© 2019 AnonHimMoose


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Added on July 13, 2019
Last Updated on July 13, 2019

Author

AnonHimMoose
AnonHimMoose

prague, Czech Republic



About
i once believed in stories_stories are what we are made of and it is in stories that we constantly seek to make ourselves a present to be given to others_but i have lost faith in how i can be represen.. more..

Writing
imago imago

A Poem by AnonHimMoose