Gothic-Surrealism

Words of a world, strange though wonderful.

Sunlit Night

 

Sunlit passion in the moonlit heart chamber,

your embers thaw my hot-blooded glacier.

You are my sun of the night sky.

I, your moon-glow – you, my sun-shine.

 

Twas’ a full moon

and all through the night-sky not a star was winking –

cast out by the resistless sorrows

of my gloomy eye-moonlight.

 

You felt that I, the moon, had arisen,

and the tear-tides swelled

in the darkness behind your eyelids –

winking adrift.

 

A pair of blurred suns then arose

from the slumber of the cold-blue horizon,

casting out my dimmed-moon with your radiant dawning.

Oh, that sun-fire gleam within your eyes when you see me!

 

I, the gloom, then recede into night but you catch me,

“fire can love tears” you said.

I reposed just as the faint moon in day – indistinct of what we are –

you’re my flame, I your tears, together we boil into quarrel.

 

Now she walks on by, the love in her eyes eclipsed.

I stand in weeping-lacerations, there is no hope left –

because fire and tears come not together.

Can one mend the disparity of our deities?

 

Whom is the embodiment of our love-force?

Whom is the personification of our love-force?

Tears boil

in quarrel.

 

In the twilight of our relationship,

your setting sun gave me one last sliver of a wink

before your eye sunk beneath the horizon.

Your cold-blue tears dyed into the warmth of your dying light.

 

I am not for you;

my moon eclipses your sun

and casts your world

into darkness.