Phil Turner
ICHOR
The transcendental substance.
Night flows above me,
An invisible eruption from
The Erebusian Gate.
Clear, luminescent moonlight
Bleeds into the black mass of fate
Tracing a map that lifeblood
Of the world eternally follows.
Thoughts pulsate beneath my surface
To find their way slowly under yours.
I am a fish who swims in your sea
And lives in the unlit recesses
At the edges of your undulating lines.
Take me into the pure aether,
Let me taste the nectar of your passions.
O winged woman give your blood
To me
I shall give my soul
To you.
The Ichor flows from the moon
Into the sea that lies between us
As we meet and mingle and mix
To make the starlight
That is human life.
No comments:
Post a Comment