Come over, ye mortal cherubins!
Now I have some intrepid fables to share
for I have redeemed my sensibility, or am wholly befuddled.
Blessed by a preacher, of fear’s sacrosanct dome,
I now lament words with my ghastly appearance
that the world, of which I am no more a part of,
turns a blind eye to.
A wanderer, he was.
Silence was his characteristic,
Calm his demeanor
He carried a grace, reflective in his countenance.
Unperturbed by the worldly chaos, he walked around,
until a day came when he stumbled upon a flower.
A flower so delicate that it piqued his sensory aesthetics.
He stood there, fixated.
One could say, he was allured by its beauty.
From then on, he walked the same path each morning,
bearing a vessel with fresh water to moisten the flower,
to tamper with its natural longevity.
One fine morning he came and saw the flower hanging low and pale,
He rushed to hold it, it fell.
His emotions ran wild and he mourned,
swearing to find a cure before his beloved went cold.
Resting it on its soil, he rushed, seeking an answer.
“He is a madman” said some,
“He is a seeker” said the ones who saw his yearning.
The hands of the clock moved like tides of the sea under moonlight.
His hair grew wild and he lost his identity.
Finally, in a written word, lost in history
he found his answer, an elixir.
An elixir that could bring back life
but “only with thy own blood” read the next line.
He should have had a commotion, but he had none,
He was lost in a strange emotion.
He rushed back to the abandoned garden,
where half sunk into the soil, lay his beloved.
He dug it deep to preserve every piece of it.
With the start of his chant, he cut a slice of himself
quenching the thirst of death.
Drop by drop,
he fell to the ground, turning pale
until he could rise no more.
As he lay there, recounting his life in just a few moments,
he saw the flower flinch.
The elixir had worked.
As the flower rose from the dead, the nameless fell.
A pall of gloom fell on his face
and that was it.
The flower stood, blooming as it had never before.
He accepted death like an old friend,
but death was stern and felt cheated.
As nature consumed his corporeal remains,
death chose to return to reinstate the course of nature.
In the end, if not in the mortal world,
I reunited with my beloved in the world of souls.