These Days

After these days of angelic communiqué, the world has begun to shiver
In the waking belief that we have overcome the differences between
What is right and what is directed towards the fiery temperaments below
The normal spectrum of emotion, where nothing is but an experiment
In the unreeling science of love’s current plight: greed and disharmony between the spherical undertows of the past merging with the high-intensity sentiments of today.

Single and together they stand to hold one another, to embrace the lowest fears,
Welling up inside them, feeling, crawling across the smoldering coals of regret,
To end up within the reaches of a kitchen of lust, where the main course is love,
And the drink of the night is silence.

Have they made a mistake? Running around in the abstract halls of affect? To be disguised by the ramblings of another time, reminiscent of a mercurial future, they breathe the water, holding the liquid in their frail lungs,
Pushing aside the sea-weeds of success and casting the ballast to the opposite shore.

Holding time was never as easy as this,
Spreading her wings over the sky, magenta in feeling,
Cold in vision,
Frozen in affectation.