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Brothers in a Glasshouse

The silhouettes of many yesterdays
Floundered through the silent walls
Recounting how we roam these branches
Trespassing unnumbered rooms,
Filleting riddles from the harlequin moon,
Fishing through salient oceans,
Meandering with a pensive nonchalance
Like kings in a pompous parade
Bounded by a golden chain
And shorn by vindictive asymmetries

But days fluttered without transition
We molted from the visage of our reflections
With gauche arrogance pouncing
From the tethers of this glasshouse
Sending mordant shudders on its frangibility
Whilst wrathful malcontent is forged from
The angrily hissing flames of distraught
Ricocheting like bullets mangling
Through the cavernous but elusive vault,
Your invitation still echoes through
The circles of these soliloquy
Like a labyrinthine hall ornately
Shuffled to hide the deepest room
Where the moon is such a vision
In a lake of sleeping mirrors

How did this home burned down
Tarnishing our pristine reflections?
Our star-crossed visions bloated
From breathing under water;
Your nonplussed departure
Left blithely like a climate
Invited by an aubade
But why do you have to leave
This detrimental thunderstorms
Of shattered mirrors, memoirs, behind
Prancing for the wretchedness
Of my stirred penetralium?

I lived in these desolate waltz
Like a bard without a song
Wandering for your lost suppuration
And escaping from the serrations
Lashed by your inclement after-thought
I cussed at every mock you scorn
And futilely waited for a faceless
Answer to writhe the defiance
Aggravated by these mocking mirrors
And their livid insinuations
Tinkering the garish light
That once honed your immense shadow

I stood across the line you drew -
A felled brother, a dogged contender
Frantic over these myopia
Inside the halls of eyes in plethora;
My own casted downwards, I capitulated
To the stupor of my demented legs
Shattering through the savageness
Wrought for a frenzied defense
I ran away from your pointing finger
Sloshing through the blood
Dripping from the sliver stabbed on my back
Hoping to come across that person
That I once knew and held
Eyes sleeping like a mirror
Brimming with an invitation

In this glasshouse where we used to meander
Eating fire and drinking water
Walking through the thawing ice
Placidly on our plaintive eyes
How can we not see better
Of our own reflection - bloodstained
And savage in the leathery veneer
Safeguarding the brittle bones
Gnawed to the deepest dungeon
Where the clandestine volitions ruptured
Festooned by treacherous conflagrations

I shrugged my encumbered shoulders
And lunged for the rock bottom
In the proximity of demise
And the woman that gave birth to it
I heard the bloodhounds bark
Ravaging at the strand of solace
That willowed like your final sigh
I saw them slavering, whetting fangs
Roused by a menacing hedonism
I let them trace the scent of my wretchedness
As I knelt to my last prayer
And waved too many goodbyes
To a brother incarcerated
Inside a deluded glasshouse.

poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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