The Door of Risk [poem]

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On this anticipatory morning glory dew
while mounting sun bows deeply
to the fading was of Venus in the blue
empyreality of now foreboding sky
the sweetsome scent of certainty
invades my normally pristine sense
of ever-omnipresent randomness
with delicate sharp insistent fate

New moon dark unmadness
looms its newing weave across
the welkin vault with unrelenting
marching sounds of startled love
as suddenly I pay my first respects
to inexorability and with the sun
I bow to destiny — my forehead
resting confidently on the floor

With bafflement my inner eyes
now comprehend the irksome whys
of reason battling inexplicability
[thus even death (the thing we fear
in love) is sweet with ineluctability]
rekindling broken dreams with fire
astonished irrevocable lightning bolts
of raw desire unbolt the door of risk


© Alan Morrison, 2015

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