...or, could tears seal unspoken pledges...

Under the graying clouds, its light kept from absent sun,
a plate of jade awaits beyond in patience
its noble hue finding it cannot be outdone 
but the contrast and collusion is but accidence
in your eyes.


The Progenitor's cogent gem, the play of greens and grays,
undulating to signify all that's best that's come before
(as the lightened breath of an expert chansonnier,
or the treading of men who could not but help explore
the spanning sky).


And sighs will never be felt upon my nape, that incensive elixir:
the tear-laden hope of naught, will find their way lost
to your desire as some sad-faced saboteur 
hailing less to Zeus' daughters, more to worthless dross
prating as the tired tread of sad delights..


Here, however, I stand, unflinching, Aoide at my side
For I'd felt more at this distance than a 100 men would to the fore.
And, as a champion asks for nothing, but to his own, abide
then I'll take on that mantle, Disinterest, that assured guarantor,
for delights and skys
and healing eyes
the promise worth living for.


- 11/18/11