Poetry

You,

Queen over all thoughts
Plunged, like ripe autumn plums
Upon this ground - cradle for
The dead, and those first come to life:
Arrows and missiles, always
Leaving a trace, never missing
The earliest sign of a flower
Bloomed by the gravestone,
Or the first breath of those
Born again, and again.

You,

King over all feelings
Spread, like the eagle’s wings
Slashing the sky unmercifully,
Always searching, always
Committed to the irony of
Fighting for survival, feeding three,
tearing down four, thriving
among the storms, yet wearing
your wounds to the grave.
Always you, never the same.

Prince over all sunrises
Embarked day after day on
The flight of a spinning sphere,
Blazing wheels embracing
Second by second, old landmarks
And dreamy new beginnings,
Leaving behind a choir of
Shining stars weaving
The song of your faithful,
Tireless pursuit of the future.

Princess over all sunsets,
Crowned every night in velvet hues,
Hovering over horizon, Beauty
To whom countless suitors played
Enchanting serenades, mortals
Trying to grasp in words the
Immortal spirit of your sophistication,
Fallen before your unattainable space,
Capitulated at the feet of your past -
Ever-hoped for, ever-retreating face.

You,
Queen and King,
Prince and Princess,

Yet always a beggar, ever
Pleading with your master to
Chain you in the hearts of men,
Your slave to set you free,

You,
Molded in restless fingers,
Forged in sacred tears,

Queen and King,
Prince and Princess,

Master and Slave
Over me,

You,
Sweet-bitter taste of the
Coming, already present
Eternity.