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I have been hollowed with a machete, my insides barren. The simile shone is of my mind, under the sovereignty of the human heart on self-destruct. I wear a crown, jet black, though invisible
that poisons my blood with a serum of ascendancy. I have been overtaken, overturned, transformed.
I am the stealth that ascends over the curved horizon, as the sun hushes it harsh heated tone. Dark.
Behold my precious jewels. A celestial gift, upheld by the welkin in its darkest of hues.
I wait stoically.
With each tick of the watchmaker’s vainglory, I push myself in gentle sloping waves, that wash over the heads of the creatures; above and so below.
Alas, I am here, welcomed by the bidding, lavish bijou.
My breathes are stentorian whistles, winding the willows as they wish an adjacent daylight; dreaming blissfully of its past eras.
“Where art thou primordial confidants, thou whom were upheld by the east winds, as they stood in triumph over their internal enemies”? It whispers.
On the affair I arrive in great gales, in showers of saccharine aqua, in sharp echoing bellows, listen to me.
Listen. To. Me
For I mean no harm to what I have bore down upon.
Brace your souls, and appoint your ears to the source of my cries, and devour my natural interjections, though my raw emotions may shake your mortal bodies bare.
Appoint your eyes to my coruscate bolts, that sprawl out like the branches of an enchanted oak. With mighty branches that clamber to the abyss and then up into the heavens.
Hush children, for in your fear of me you will find no comfort, no slumber will find your body, and no rest to the lids of your eyes.
Hush children, do not fear me.
Hush children, do not fear me, but the evil that proclaims my ghastly shadows for itself, that takes pride in my stygian silhouettes.
For if aversions shall tempt your minds; and proclaim your hearts, in the darkest of my corners strike a match, and light your candles. Let them burn throughout the night. Let the flickering of the orange-red flames, dance passionately on your walls. Let the flames dance gracefully, the walls their empty ballroom. The wax shall be a mark of previous nights, stiffened into dull shapes and patterns displaying all of their former afflictions.
Bear your right eye upon my twinkling treasures, and you will never become lost amidst the perfume of my ebony.
If so your eye cannot scope my gems, look through your spyglass. For everything will be laid bare for you. Into your vision you will descry the Luna. It’s venerable lands, of craters, ridges and cracks will astonish you. Its soaring mountains will testify it’s many years of wisdom to your young ears.
Shed no more blood under my moonlight; for I belong not to evil, but to please the lovers, the wary, and those who are affectionate of the limpid serenity attached to my breastplate.
Shed no more blood under my moonlight, I beg of you. My voice deep and raspy.
I am on my knees, but you cannot see.
I am calling out in genuine earnest, but you cannot hear me.
Why must it be like so?
But what can you say?
You have pierced my vitality, with your psyche; never mind I remind myself, you cannot see.
“Whoo, whoo”. An owl.
The simple minded will hear a soft coo, but the open of spirit will hear the sweet melody, of an ancient wanderess, calling to her lost love. “I hold you benign in the star of my bosom” she carols.
But, I can only holdfast for so long.
The token of our solar system has arisen, and she warns of her arrival tenderly, with a soft susurrate in my western ear. Her lips silken, as I kiss them.
“The time has come” she speaks
“Shalom Chaverim”, is my reply.
“Lehitraot, lehitroat.” I sing as we are pulled apart, and our hands slip away from the tight grip that kept us fastened to one another. Her light splits my fading darkness steadily.
Shalom, a whisper at dawn and dusk. Shalom, a whisper at the epitome of twilight.