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Saturday, October 19, 2013

Revealed Enigmas, Though Irises Negate Any Sight (RETINAS)

His eyes stare (entranced) into the aqueous lake of black,
Like a fisher of fallen, there is something with calling;
Which his pen brings back (to add to the track),
Leaving the joy – sullen, as the horror is crawling.

The incubus is sprawling, through the ink on the page.
Infernally imparted diction is expressed without restriction.
The temper is in a rampant rage, the stanzas develop on a stage.
From the slate river, enemies arise, thousands of eyes filled with hate;
Manifesting from his darkened haze, he`s hypnotized by their binding gaze.

The ocular occult images swirl, closing in around his carcass;
He is hoping and praying, these dark spectacles will pass.
He feels frozen in astounding awe and frigid fear,
The feeling restraining his mind is steadily compounding;
His courage is unable to thaw, as the visions draw near.
The hour is beyond late, and their surveillance does not abate,
More enemies continue to generate – not attacking - but wait…
“What do they want?” his logic begins reasoning and expounding.

Staring deep into the vision of each apparition,
Into each lidless lens filled with animosity and arbor
(This heap of the diabolical division of preterition);  
The initial dismay is trimmed, like hair to a barber.
The evil eyes in collision with the rhetorician,
As he analyzes, he notices another feeling they harbor…

Past all their the enmity, beyond all that is hollow;
He detects an enigma, hidden down deep below.
It feels as though, in the mystery, he now envisions;
He is being imparted, some positive potential previsions.
A developing divination in the eyes begins to show
(His mind becomes astute,
His bravery grows resolute.);
Their stares and glares, he shrewdly, will now follow.

“What is this emotion?” he works tirelessly to reason out.
“They are filled with some purpose, of this there is no doubt;
A stranger sort of hunger, not propelled by famine or drought”

…He notices and detects, that they have a sort lonely sorrow,
From drifting endlessly in the shadowy - in the lurid and obscure;
In stygian nebulous realm, grim and dim – in darkness ever-more.
“Perhaps, a moment of illumination they desire to borrow,
And they seek (if even for a blink), through this body to be free”?
Upon reaching this deduction, their demonic surveys, fill with glee.

He continues to dwell, in their presence for a slight spell;
Making many amends, for presuming they weren`t friends.
To him, many latent caches they unseal,
Many clandestine crafts they reveal.
Rising with a farewell (like smoke from a pyre), he opens his eyes to the night;
Back under the comforting gaze of the sire, and warmth of the moonlight.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

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