Letter I

never too far…

Beneath a dream – I stare and wait –
Your face, corroded in my mind
In thy simplicity, no faith
For faith is bitter and maligned.

No utter distance to repel
When lines are twisted in thy vow
I don’t believe a word – unsaid –
These august witches do not bow.

A fervid hand depicting sighs
Deflowered anguish in a chest
For thee, unblemished solitude,
In ethereal arms I rest.

Beneath a dream – I stare and wait –
Reluctant beings, put aside
There is a way within thy wings
To care, to listen, to confide

…away…

©2000 Emmah Toris
– Image courtesy of Polixeni Papapetrou –

Brittle beetle serenade

falling…

paranoid, beloved infant,
seek the womb of fractal light –
shall thy worth outrage the human
shall thy beasts in rapture… blight

all the shapes outlive these faces,
fugitive… the flesh reversed,
odor that collapses graveyards
filled the nights when splendor burst.

do not fear departing Eden,
paradise regained in sounds,
an orchestral gaze of daimons…
thy reflection shows no bounds.

all despair in lust is loathsome,
fear is primary and void –
in thy changing… waves distorted
visions moving, none destroyed.

veils shall leave this creature candid –
not a human, but a frame
in thy happening… the rapture…
dear infant… you became…

… into being…
(in spite of these stars)

©2000 Emmah Toris
– Image courtesy of Michael Hussar –