To Make A King Of Fools
What had the voiceless night undone
Unto this parcel of weeping land
The tranquil zephyr had mangled unto
The bastion of a fortified heaven
A celestial vanguard of unsinkable quartz
From the chalcedony was exonerated
And the echoes of the shrill symphonic lament
Of its anthems and schmaltz trumpets
That tinkered the peripatetic haunt
Tarries the hollow bliss in the safeguard
Shall I smile unto my reflection
To tourniquet the putrefaction?
What a king of fools ballast
The sterile gilt of crown loose
And rules a mighty kingdom
Of phantoms with faces alike
And in his throne tramples
As he cringed into the death of him:
The curse of the shadows
Never willed for departing
Well, come! My waxing moon shall unfurl
The colossal shadows of unforgiving
Shall I amuse you with the torment and anguish
Rising with every heaving of breathing?
For in these phases of the shifting world
Nothing encompasses the obstinate clouds
And forgiveness shall hope for hope
Shrouding the dark in togetherness
In his kingdom, he is incomplete
Perhaps, in the shadows of his world
He would rule again, completely
In his consummate incompleteness.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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