With Measured Shadow

With measured shadow he paces between window and door,
Back and forth through past and future, heaven and hell,
Across the myriad and parallel chasms of the pegged floor.
With clouded eye he gropes the frescoed wall,
Painted, it seemed, in layers of his troubled past,
Webbed in his soul’s dimmest recess.

His ears bend  toward the swish of the sheers’ ethereal glow,
The sun’s pale impression struggling toward the cracked black register.
His breath hangs heavy from his nostrils, and struggles to return.
The fate he beholds, a cold black glove in warm air’s midst;
Heavy like winter’s hail, it presses upon drooped chest.
Frigid Doom, with hoary ice-grips, jerks his head
Round toward the underworld’s crimson glow, his underworld,
Tangled in weeping thorns, deep in the stinking ash of his burnt-out soul.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s