A Sweet, Bloodless Rage

'To inscribe a painful melody
Upon a cold, blank page' -
These words he said to me
In a sweet, bloodless rage.

I never knew what he meant,
That emblem of solar youth,
But his simple, honest splendour
Beckoned me to their truth.

The day begins with spring:
The bright innocence of joy
Mixed with a portion of pride
That a painter might employ.

Summer's sun bequeaths a brutal strength,
The height of a hero's sigil;
Autumn's eve sends a humbling gloss
To prepare for Winter's vigil.

I lie awake upon the snow,
Breathing the fragrance of ashes -
My mind is a machine,
Red, burning, laden with rashes.

Therefore I dream in my death,
I dream in my bed of snow;
But a piercing song awakes me,
And now I know, now I know.

A delicate, dancing voice
Sang to me from the wild:
'Walk into my waiting arms,
Belong to me, my child'.

I know what she meant,
That picture of lunar light,
And her long, lively loveliness
Summoned me to the night.

'To inscribe a painful melody
Upon a cold, dark page'-
These words he said to me
In a sweet, bloodless rage.