ode to synthia


yearning in the distance
for he with which to elope
worming thru the forest
in her sequined snakeskin robe

sweet of sunflares dancing
sparked by spirit’s flame
a voice stitched with an angel’s thread
- listen! - hath aired my name

sprint o’er a million miles
swim across a thousand seas
i hear it not but all the while
i am summoned out of need

an orb of azure fancy
much unawakened, seems
to seam the strands of consciousness
and whisper when she breathes

embalméd with her scent
the clouds’ easterly drift
against the grain - thru wind and rain
never shall i desist

a golden soil inks the sky
the glint of her unsheathed pretense
nepenthe for the masses, aye
but heaven soil i fear to tread

the vigilance of eyes inhuman
grasp her severance at heart
more blind than mortals’ faint acumen
thus i lament but to impart

i’ve sprinted o’er a million miles
i’ve slept throughout a thousand dreams
and still the mien of her beguiles
my very nature of reverie




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