Ember

love looms
amid the earthen shrine
in contrast with truth
pressing onto parchment
muted musings left lingering
for glancing eyes
that gaze in contempt
aghast at the ongoing display
of decadent debauchery
never have they known
such indiscretion
yet none can speak
for what is known

the radiance
disarming
its cadence grows stronger
echoing into the abyss of anguish
from one
to other
bearing no consequence
of relevant toll
rolling like a snow-bound stone
enjoyed by the sun

all of these ancestral affectations
airs of artifice
agonizing over every breath
spilled out onto the landscape
like leaves leading to disarray
in lost portrayal

sweet strands of vermilion
lick like flames
framing such fragile alabaster allure
alone and aloft
soft tones of humility
exuding from hearth
set upon this heart
rekindled by kindred coalescence
windswept into one regret
and set to the serenity
of solitude’s song

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

10 thoughts on “Ember”

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