The Wolves of Midwinter

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Immortal Cynics

Within time’s essence
I’m omnipresent
I prefigure everything
Sometimes, I can foresee the blissful pockets of light
In the lives of others albeit
My own desolate life
Where time wills me along with the
Swift inclination of mankind’s desires

Often, I can recall that lover
Who left me lovelorn and disillusioned
Due to the vigor of unhealthy passions
That pervaded my active mind
 They existed long before I became intrinsic to time
It was sometime…
Before I became acquainted with the
Eternal Solemnity of time

Dressed impeccably, my desirable lover sat on the
White, ceramic steps leading to the stately halls of Caesar
He never adorned himself with doleful toga of black
Instead, he was fashioned with immaculate white
Much like the exaggerated rendition of him that haunted my mind

Ever since laying my eyes on him
My wandering stares grew stealthy
As they secretly stole glimpses of him
During those times he held a pensive stare
Below this thoughtful façade, a myriad of philosophical thoughts
Danced deftly through the golden halls
Of his erudite mind

Trapped within the mirrors of this hall was
Droves of sullen reflections of myself
Who were transfixed with his beauty
But, the sadness that defaced my happiness was
The realization that your thoughts never revolved around me
Even when my thoughts sought to barricade yours with
Subtle statements that alluded to my love for you

You always sauntered quickly
Out of the hall of my detested reflections
Soon enough, the manifestations of your true source of passion
Unraveled itself and became a wan lady
With your beloved golden razor, you delicately shaved her
Golden hair off her voluptuous, naked body
Till a pile of golden locks became a bed of hair
For the two lusty lovers

Once, I heard his pleasurable moan softly
Reverberate through the room
I scrambled out of his deplorable fantasy
Then I submerged myself into the pool of my tears
With my eyes closed and my passions quelled
I beseeched Hades to take me to the underworld
With the thoughts of my lover eradicated
Along with the underlying yearn that
 Engendered this overwhelming need for my submission

Unbeknownst to me, it seems that I had murdered myself
While wading through the wreckage of my dreams
Because of the poison I laced my wine with
I had no true need of Hades intervention
Through my own efforts, my reality finally blackened climatically
Yet, the plague of my unrequited passion would remain

Now, I sit within time’s ineffable eternity
Watching other lovers face a similar plight
Where their respective lovers or
Series of lovers never reciprocate
The passion that uncontrollably surfaces within our minds
Each of their ends were individually tragic and hopeless
Somewhere in the domain of their afterlife,
They have become immortal cynics of the
Bastard of romance

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