simonhlilly

POETS OF THE GREYING VOID ( BOOK OF VOICES)

Only by these words
Only by those your demons allow
By those airs and sorrows,
Those scars,
That keep them so contentedly anaesthetised.
A mirrored spirit in mirrored halls.

Teeth and lips, tongue and breath
A landscape dreaming life
Into itself.
A moon, a lost planet,
A drift of photons.
Sparked, struck flint,
A blink or such
In darkness
Illuminating nothing
Momentarily searing
Momentarily serene.

We cannot question the beauty
Of these voices, beautiful as they are,
So like our own, so like oceans,
So like sighs.
The meaning comes and goes,
A flock fierce and pierced.
The quivering salt
That falls, drying hard,
A new skin.

Maintenance of edges
Honed, traced upon, mapped,
The armies of the Lord,
A sway jut-chinned, belligerence.
The same countries, the same roads
Renamed, mispronounced.
Recidivists redacted,
All is sweetly perfumed,
Sweetly ended.
This my demons demand:
A better, bitter truth.

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