adamdaniel

In the Shadow of the Mountain

Such countless shuttered doorways!
Such a labyrinthine hell!
Such enigmatic archways,
And a curse I can’t dispel.

The stumble in derision,
And the blackness of the tomb,
The moonlight in precision,
Cutting through the casing gloom.

I turn and twist in anguish,
With my body booming pain,
In crystal night to languish,
With a wry, meshuggah brain.

The ivy hangs untended,
And the statue’s chipped and worn,
Inside, my heart unmended,
In a garden so forlorn…

The grass in icy sleekness,
With the wooden benches bare,
These shadows bring such weakness,
With my hope a feeble flare.

The birds in thronging madness,
Rising out the Turkish pine,
A landscape set in sadness,
With the mountain like a shrine.

A presence so commanding,
Dressed in black and decked with cloud,
Her moodiness expanding,
In a hopelessness nigh proud.

The shadow of the mountain,
Is the lowland where I rove,
My thoughts a messy fountain,
As I navigate the grove.

Renouncing very daylight,
For the truth dost burn mine eye,
Enamoured of the midnight,
And her loveless lullaby…