Softly, the mist came with its trifle attention <br />lackadaisically promenading in the silver stillness <br />but nothing in this quiescence is intimate enough <br />to quell the raving flames of your furnace <br />shorn openly to desecrate the lacings of faith <br /> <br />I picked up the debris of your blaring tirade, <br />I cupped the ashes of your sterile lambaste, <br />I reckoned the vicarious pirouettes with death - <br />our hands are both tarnished but my soul stifles <br />under the condemns of your querulous parasol <br /> <br />The godly hands eloquently wove webs with you <br />until your fulminating repose was a perfect ensnare - <br />a wreck gnawing on your seams, sifting your dreams <br />shifting the crooked hands of your maladroit petals <br />Not now, but little by little, you'll know what I mean <br /> <br />When you catch a glimpse of horror by accident <br />and your mirrors unveil its light to the effluence <br />of masquerading faces and words you never knew <br />The mirrors are muted before your new form <br />and the light is siphoned by your lamentations <br /> <br />Whilst the phantoms deferred their dissipation <br />I sing these lamented auguries out of sympathy <br />and no one is listening but the early dews: <br />Your destruction cradles a raging tyranny <br />If I can only convince you to trust me on this <br /> <br />Unmake me a memory, pensive flower <br />Wither not as you strangle the crumbles of me <br />with your brambly veins and esoteric maladies <br />For I have grown abiding to your lingering graze - <br />A fastidious palette in my lackluster wallflower<br /><br />Norman Santos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lambaste-unto-your-shattered-reflection/
