Vespertine Whispers

Your vespertine whispers descend at midnight,

From reaches of velvetine sky, ethereal corners,

Of galaxies painted, aquiver with eternal flecks,

Reflections of which come softly through eyes,

Which pivot there starkly, exhuming my breath,

Entombing these timorous thoughts,

Embracing a cold Winter’s dream, which hoped,

Which envisioned brilliant corridors, braziers,

Tapered candelabrum, all lacrimal, lustrous, light,

As casting a gilding, each scaffold and ceiling,

Extant eternal as Apollonian laurel, Il Duomo,

Emblazoned ‘neath Florentine sun,

An opulent image, sure casting the visage,

Of tumultuous dawn on her wings,

Where memory mentioned your face in the shadow,

Of bowers in slumbering scenes, these things,

As in reliq’ry kept, interred for an aeon,

Delighted, I rise now as Spring,

To vespertine whispers which, serpentine, slither,

Denoting a prophetic song, in bones,

Of my elders, these ages before us,

Inscribed in our ritual reign, as,

Descent through a mutual vein.