Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

70
xxviii. Ardor
More call for songs of light, for a world
fluttering with better frenzies. For a high beyond
path, beyond gleam, beyond way. The mornings
peal with a blank delight. A petaled
ecstasy. Face turns to dewy face, fancies
elastic & lingering. Songs of light nearer
this year. Many prophets say so. They say
let it go, let it be, the music will shatter,
hearts will remain when bones are no more.
Let go, let be, shatter, unto the last,
those promised songs of light, nearing
like seeds on the wind, a kiss, true &
wet, nearing. Others just say love, only love.
Urge it by governance & holy malingerings.
The sky, night’s ocean, brilliant smoke
of hookahs, the rising arc of a moaning
back. Love in spinning, shaping fires,
shifting glitter of something desire, urge
to crack songs of light from shells wild
of make, big with knitting hum, happy
conjures. There is no world. Every song
of light will confirm it so. One simply persists
with the ardor of a wish, the truth of a hint
remembered in a dream.
More call for songs of light & I believe
the hands will multiply toward the
task. Yes by neon & unraveling mesmer.
Let go, let be, shatter. What will
open many hearts, behold awful & raw,
cut without mercy, a raving brute bounty.
***
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005
To be concluded in The Cenacle | 55 | October 2005