The Dead Man’s Mass
The light of Twilight opened:
Bruised in orange inclination
Below a dark blue cascade
Of starlit elevation.
He lay down to ponder
Upon the complex folly of descent
And all the foolish hooded lies
That embraced all human incident.
His breast released a fearful sigh –
Exasperating all clear smoke
From deep within his ancient lungs
And pushed out from hidden throat.
And his eyes became wide open –
Gasping at the visual splendour
In every moment passing on,
As life evaporated yonder.
His memories caught in bloodied fever
And seeping from every pore;
He felt ecstatic recollection
For what had been before.
And no where had this Dead Man seen,
The golden sunrise of the Night –
Transcending high in earnest dream
And drowning him in Holy rite.
And vanished by forsaken moment,
Reality’s gates were closed –
Elyseum of ancient myth constructed
While his abstract mind composed.
– El-Branden Brazil
Copyright January 12th, 1998 –
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