Lingering in a vague recall
Of a phantom’s fleeting gleam,
A breath of light did fall,
Reflected in the mirror’s beam.

Stubborn and passive, I remain;
Church bells toll in distant chime;
Weary and stripped from earthly gain
Of a burgher’s cloak and grime.

Evil eyes and clouds aloft
Caress the sky with darkened hues;
I fear my descent, too soft,
Before my destined time is due.

There I was seen and understood,
Yet how to keep them far away?
Fearful I tread on diamonds good
And let myself in dimness stay.

A brooding hen, I guard the thoughts
Of a kind, a genre, hard to erase;
And though I promised in past aughts
To show tact and earnest grace.

To smile sincere, to cleanse in milk,
In mortar and stone to find my way;
The statue turns with grip of silk,
Bends me with a firm array.

We stood amidst the rising blaze,
Calm thy spirit, for heart doth ache;
The stars already know our phase
And what fate for us shall make.

The sneer of malice, wings of soot,
Yellow-tipped in a lonely station;
Meanwhile I burn ‘midst e’ery foot,
I heed commands with sharp elation.

No longer can I walk this plane
As I perform my dance in vain.

Marco Delrio

Hells

SOCIAL & CONTACTS

Mail: delriomarco.md@gmail.com