The Awakening

I am the trembling waters milked from the clouds,

and the clouds are the utters that carry me.

You are the stars that burn in the night

to light my way toward home,

when I splash on top of Creation.

You are the fountain from which I arise.

The sleepy earth is awakened by the roar

of thunder when the Lord's army strikes

the visage with their heroic swords of lightening;

yet, their salty tears become nourished for the dying

rose that comes to life once more.

Anyone can see who's using it,

but not every man can master the storm.

Murderer of my festive light,

I agonize over your power beholding me,

and drinking up my essence embroidered

by the hands of God.

Your leaky cauldron drips negative mirrors

into a scoured entity to feed upon its loving nest

that is bereft by your sallow waters.

Champagne eyes follow the silver sky.

He reaches out to touch my fading memory

of my glory years, and drapes my naked soul

with velvet blue.

Perilous serpent compressing my air,

lead me in this holistic ceremony

with your golden voice.

Take my shouting heart into your holistic fangs,

and bite me with your charismatic melody.

For I shall consume your diamond tears,

and heal my tattered body from the truce

they shall bring to my serendipity.

Fire burns within my amber gut

for a tainted portrait that once held the grace

and elegance of a ripened peach.

Now it is a fossil whose soul no longer resonates

the passion found within the dried up font.

The sting has softened now,

and I no longer feel the need to roar.

My rage has been suppressed by your Hellenic smile.

Rough waters have the tendency to feed our starving minds

with folly; thus, causing paranoia and disenfranchisement.