Charade/Halcyon

Curious peek -- no spectrum

Neither Floyd, nor Physics

Instead the space stares back

Welcoming in its chastity to concoct

Colors bleeding from recurring fervor

If it were just presumptions to belie

Taking would have been the sole intent

Of any handful that was left…

It’s no mystery now -- ablution be myth

Aroma be only a ceaseless mirage

Endless tales of drifting dots

As glimmers of interest flicker

Prior to ambers losing ignition;

Engulfed in guileful inferno

Transformed into a feast of cheaps

King, drama be thy name…

Suffused with Love

As mist lifts

figures of speech glow,

drawing attention

to a mind in turmoil,

and making it obvious

the meaning behind.

Observer asks,

halcyon a charade?

King a drama?

A part of him

already dead;

he has no strength

to stage a drama

or a charade;

halcyon, king

any name you give him,

he waits, with hope

for the return of

his crested soulmate,

in whose eyes

he finds his world;

and whose absence

has made him pensive,

has made him feel

a deep sense of loss,

and deeper sense of sorrow.

But, he's there

with hope intact,

his heart suffused

with nothing but love.