Hearts of a Rose: rival'd exchanges

I, thought to be alone in this place and time
sung on the disobedience by others
recovering only myself from those broken promises----
fully aware of the tempter and the opened wing,
In this wilderness of mine—a victorious length
viewed through the loss and defeat of dependant emotions.
Ere the spiritual foe, and brought into reality
in the projection of another glorious in his hatred, --
bearing no modern ill content against me;
loosely he is the heroic rival reminding of petal’d thoughts,
else all is mute between us, -- deemed to be marked----
worthy of a thought once in a while.
To all that is—shall forever watch this moment, --
his blade now my adversary, mine his own;
crossing do they pronounce a undertone of hell----
our spirits descending—unconfirmed on our inner voice
”I shall be the last man standing!”
Thunder-struck, his eyes burnt in the altitude of madness;
”Repent to me!” his greatness achieved over mine.
Witness now the assembly of blood divine on this floor
it was meant to be: exalted exchanged, --
summoned into existence, nor rests on the thoughtless care----
paradise sliced open—ascended, this was the surveying
of a envy cut clear away, -- my blade ascending too
in the powers of mental will, remembering the possession of Hell.
Infliction the deceiver in this passive game of compassed
affairs—that both he and I ended in a fatal wound
unknowingly the circling hours threatened to be my last;
awake only to the humming of the little child inside me, --
all a vision of my fear—greatest in the proclaiming I am lost,
pretending to wash off those old said promises----
but truthfully stored in the doubts of my heart,
displaying this invite of multiplying feelings.
The bright light hurts gracing me in a sense of God
receiving him purely—and fit for another day;
’twas the passing of a doctor did I first sigh, --
destined to live not die in the depths of loss,
baptized with steel this scar across my face
among my inner wounds holds the greatest meaning;
it was never about the testimony of a fashioned human, --
be it may—a sign upon my face for the world to see
surviving against this born rival and all his ill omens.
The truth didn’t dawn till the echoes wore away,
advancing deeper into sense in all my wanderings
”How did I end up in such a state, here on this bed?”
With a shocked expression—a mortal wound----
he had carried me like a brother on his back;
struggling against his own wounds I bestowed on him, --
who admits the long debate of defeat in the well opposed
utmost edge of sorrow—the glimpses of his struggle
enlightening against the ill set mind----
to save a life before its light does come extinguished
first takes heart to bleed, to love, to thought.
Successfully I had survived this calmer voyage;
and found no sight to bear of he;
must stronger in his undertook passion
to be the supreme above me, above all!
But life does snare the best of us into ruin, --
well ridden of the expectations of change.
Distracted I did not see the impression of her face
only the lasting of her breath against the glass----
my lecturer in the acts of madness,
the long indulgence of fantasy and her wants;
her easy steps snake like in appearance, --
committing sin as they overthrow the floor
into the dismay of its tiring creaks.
What likeness to hold the suspect of enjoyment
in a smile, raised on the longing of purposed togetherness----
this main attraction unknown to me—dismissed by her;
temptation in her whole being—ordained, and fixed.
”Sir, this pure brutish coming of the two,
shall be the death of me”
And I, verifying what was the solemn message said, --
be it in this lifetime not the next;
departing on fulfillment.
O’ershadowed by ears we walked on the prediction
we were heading in the same direction----
to the class of what was meant to be the lasting
protection—doubting it held such hopes in its dwellings;
boys pre-seen as men, and those already grown
dead in the unfilled graves of a suspected raise of war.
There he was in his fashion—cruel, malice, unpredictable----
all in his bearing the scar still bled inwardly down,
because he came to boast it in his cunning of a crowd;
winning the fairer version of our supposed fight.
O what multitudes gathered in such the swarm of thoughts
whilst yet she crept into the righteous chair of reaching, --
summoning that instant power she in perfection
silenced everyone to sit—be it delight more than knowing
of all it promoted a silence never heard.
To rescue me and take me to the highs of heaven
only to place me in the improved version of Hell----
”Sir, still you’ve yet to gain the grade,
in the violence cave of wanderings”
In misleading feelings I’d forgotten of such attentive matters;
by perceiving in that cave the subject of my fears.
And said I, “high in my hopes, I shall do it now”
conceived in the idea that one has yet to be an example
high on the suffering of others, --
he’d taken on his task before our exchanges of brute minds,
given him yet a thought he exceeds my own person.
Directly under the attention she showed in a managing way
for in the lasting breathes she took—I were last to remain, --
the rest had left onto the fields of enjoyment,
I knew now why she stayed;
the rules stating clear she had to be my grader.
”O, fair lady let us proceed to this entombing
and lasting shall I see myself set forth,
free on the watching eyes of you”

by Descendant
posted on 07/22/2007