Jul 2, 2014
Starved
A morsel in time, To hearts starved, To enchant the empty souls Upon some mountain precipice Of ecstasy and self-glory, Some slow soft beat with the wind, Breath with the trees, All under gloom and flower-freckles. Until, meshed aglow beside lambent leaves The heart itself breaks atop the trees, Lifting toward the dome encasing, As if some love of time it chasing. A morsel of time warmly flickered; A sanguine melodeon crestless, Till enchanted hearts leave their host chestless, To speckle heaven To render us restless. -D. Ærimese C.