mourning echoes

creation downed on me

it chocked with the voices

the land trusted into my throat

and the words that I will ever have

are doomed to be not mine own.

as I saw his face,

that skin of heavenly aria,

plunging in the ripples jaws,

I thought to be able

to make of my visions a portrait

that would lure him to a contemplation

not hidden in the sucking

of his seldestructive love_

narcissus!

how much I understood you only

these blades of grass constantly hear

but my notes stolen from love's breeze

could not turn your face from seeking the rebuke 

that your own inspiration carved so intensely 

in the darkness of your own diamond eyes_

for what I desired to create was nothing different from your face sheltered in your hair curled in satin  where all of beauty was to be left outside;

there were already echoes in your smiles

of the cruelty that consumes purity

when you reached for the ravishing waters,

asking to the only form you

had learned how to love

to reduce to silence the ghostly appearance

of your insecurities elevated to terror

that crawled along the edges with you_

but my melody could not interrupt

your own self musing creation

for an oblivious rest beyond love

where all that was could be obscured

from the raging of time drydening waters 

within skyless whirlpools that would restore

yours whispers depleted of mine_

                                                               

                                                              the water returns

constant milling of alien features risen to the ebbs engraved in the tresses of light corroding reflections

that I could not concretize for you_

the illusions I see it carries are strong

fed by the beauty I felt strumming

each of your absent movements when

I fooled myself in thinking it was not my face I wanted you to see in the flowing of my words_

and you_ chaser of a beauty that was more abstract than my sublimations_ let your limbs be dragged down

toward that rocking bottom that was

perceived only in music on your

horizonless transfixed pupils.

oh....world lost physicality of golden

spirit revived in ashes floating songs,

you have surely reached that communion

I wanted to make for you through me!

so now the voices I cannot offer to you

are the voices of all that through me is dispossessed of its glory in these b*****d sounds on which nothing echoes but the love I could not create with that selfsame intensity that once directed them toward you and now revolves and implodes on my fading lips

lingering over all the bodies that search

their voice in a mourning they cannot possess,

where the forgetting that vibrated on our departing speeches

chimes with the memories of this ringing forgetfulness.