Shreds: “Convictions”

The convictions of a madman fade
By the song of the final rain
That doth suffocate and change
Forever or by force’s bane
E’en the soul in strength’s domain

And thanks to a prose of iron wrought
That saveth me from cold’s cruel chain
Rendering me vast, yet great not at all,
Not old nor grand in any plane.

I sought to yield
To meaning ne’er discerned
In questions to gods,
In deeply buried chests,
In the gestation of dread,
In torments amassed
That served but pain,
Only to let thee in
The attic ‘twixt my ribs
Where restless still I seek
The taste of a kiss
Never found.
Never found.

Or, alas, the sound
Of the half of an hour
I dare not muse upon
To keep my wits within power,
Here, ‘neath star ceilings
Drawing days to be,
A tad too perfect,
With a head that sleeps
From mind to eyes
And truly sleeps
On thy breast, tonight.