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What of the limitless plains
by Luca Dombré
What of the limitless plains and
the ageless chains did I know
before the delta of your veins
opened me the seas wide of awareness?
Nothing, because I had been trying
in vain to feel sunsets on the outsides
while the joy of watching
lays hidden in the insides.
As well as a storm always comes that
sweeps the corruption of habit away,
you drown the snapping Leviathan of gloom
into the purging flow of your blood in bloom,
and to light are given back
my arcane centuries shadowed
by the beastly bites of vanity.
And what of sin, soul, sanity?
How did I go about pain?
What did I know about sorrow?
Of all these locks entwined
to hold my anguished knowledge together
the bonds are dissolved, a new enlightment enshrined,
yet a gash in the heart of my guts
stings as a wind unwinding in gusts.
Of everlasting innermost desolations
I cherished the preparation for days of mirth to come
beamed down in recognition of
my pure strain out of the shifting sands of survival
and the cozy banks of denial.
You is I endowed with new sight
that clashes against the gates of grief
then flashes beyond the frames of fear
on to the fields of past and future
where essence and form are welded
in an unchanging present of
wit, sense and feeling.
You was me before I could see
the difference between day and night,
which is none in the wake of your light
that reveals through mystery,
heals through wailing wounds,
so to regenerate the putrescent flesh of history.
On the same path the righteous and the wicked proceed
different in nature, still very much part of one breed,
proof of the mingling designs of evil and good
which only one way can be worked through:
that all is metaphor for all,
but in you, at last, is salvation from the fall.