Cities of Fire

Dreams are burned in waking glimmer.

Their embers smolder grins,

Dull bladed insight full of holes,

Behind black curtains.
They die, invisible, 

Lost and calling.

To an empty church bereft of fear,

I speak their silent eulogies.

Residues in mind's twilight, twitched.

At squinted shadow night soaked hallways,

That beg us hushed, come see delight.

To travel where they chime no midnight.

Where Seraphim ardours ignite.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I'm not very good at reading & trying to interpret heavily-nuanced poetry like this, but I can appreciate your word crafting even if I'm not completely plugged in to your message. I like the way your language style is slightly elevated & dramatic, as if for live theatre in a vintage vein (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[barleygirl]

I'm glad you shared your intent with me in your private message . . . I came back here to re-read & now I can see how you meant this! *smile*

[Xberg]

I'm so grateful you did, Barleygirl.

[Adreamer's Bluejay]

I absolutely loved the first line of this poem! I love the imagery here!

I'll leave a more specifice and detailed comment soon, right now I'm stuck reading and rereading this piece many times because it's more stunning with each readthrough!