Archaeus Six Poems

Quickened by wonder, my mind asunder,
The empyrean speaks to me.
Alas the frightful, yet, calming insightful,
A disposition, free from apathy.
...

Move along, with the descending silver grey.
Winding round, with the softest sound.
You can barely see, the colorless branches,
The longing silhouettes,
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She spills through, with light and with stone. 
Locking down - all within the empty scale. 
Remembering what we scatter,
Impervious to the drumming; the driving willful chord.
...

I'll slide into place the stones by the shore.
Cut with precision in decision,
Against the crests,
Against their roar.
...

We ask, what sanctions this,
With the sun over waters,
Rewriting dictates from fortune's mirror,
After the healing, after the storm.
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Taken in hand,
And moulded to form,
A winter's scene still and heavy,
A journey wild,
...

This wistful is cold within the sunless rain,
Unlike you dear Phoenix, who arose from pain.

Warm from the ashes, now sovereign with desire,
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Why, in our weakest and loneliest hour,
With the hands of the clock; No audience,
Does the path seem so clear through a blur of tears?
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Take my hand,
You beautiful and crippled one.
Caught within this emotional starlight,
Betwixt the peaceful heavens above,
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So this, is the elusive.
The cause, the goal.
It always is,
Drawing all, to itself.
...