Visitors

The Death of Prince Jacob



I persist.
In form I exist.
In form I am gathered ethereal mist.

At heart I am Oceans.

And there,
where you'll find in the emerald depths
of the hurl and the sway of the glorious magnitude.
There,
where the ardour of Thoth compels both day and night
and that which seems to human eyes amiss is His perfect perfection.
There,
where the rhythm of chaos feeds
and might is at war with itself,
and all is bound at once in the tumultuous, belligerent roar.
There,
where light has no purpose,
is where
I see her.

I see her.

And I am the nurturing glow of the golden magnificent Sun.
And I give.
So all who rest beneath my gaze shall surely profit and live.
My worldly treasure
is as the sweet warm breasted milk to a child.
Pure,
absolutely undefiled,
and only mine to give.

Yet She
does not
see me.

I
Whose voluptuous pomp,
whose clatter and boom befits all worldly parades beneath the plush and wondrous sequinned skies.
Whose brazen red ribbons and lace adorn the air in spiralling spectacular flights of exalted merriment.
I
Who would hold his own in all but the leanest of companies.
I am without face.
Sans visage.
The mountain peak which dwells in silence amidst the clouds;
Unreachable.
Untenable.
She sees me not.

And more,
since circumstance prevails so justice breaths as she believes it should;
I am the headless corpse.
The epitome of Doom who sits atop the bridled steed,
bearing the sound of its thunderous hooves which speak of curses, lightning and fire.

I am the plague of all plagues.
The Death of all Deaths.
So that in her mind none shall speak my name nor
know of my existence.

Oh Summer...
How so such eminence?
Have you not beheld the seeds of my destruction?
Did you not witness my sojourn which whence was born of dark and gloom now ends amongst the thickets?
Was I not worthy of your love?
Since now too late to warm me through you mock me.
As she did too.
Or so I thought.