I. The Bells of Black Sheep
Dark clouds congregate across the sky
Of crystal blue, where a fragile butterfly
Attempts to soar high with golden wings
For vain hope, swirling and flitting in the wind.
Above the clouds twenty sheep solemnly stand,
Proud their mien, regal even, like the ministers
Heralding demise, those from that mysterious land
Of decay and despair, tolling the bells of disaster.
The sound is slow and heavy, pulsating like heartbeats
Which blindly run through the threads of creation
And end with a knit of mighty necessity, leaving
Visages pale, wings broken and hearts drown in emotion.
The faerie butterfly, beholding the upcoming abyss,
Calmly accepts her destiny, and begins to dream
The sweetest dream she could ever conceive,
A dream of blooming flowers dancing,
Of music flowing, infants smiling,
Of moonlight shining, suns rising,
Of Garden of Eden endowed with original beauty,
Everything joyfully living.
Fear dissipates in the reverie of hope,
And bells seem to cease for its sake, idling
Away the hours of their noonday, considering
The possibility of a starlit night, though fleeting,
With the most astonishing display
Of butterfly dance, which can illuminate
Even the darkest dale in the universe.
The flood of light effuses from the sky.
II. A Bee’s Escapism
Here comes a golden bee,
Fleeing from its drenchèd flight,
Buzzing round a pile of dung.
O, fair dweller of sweet fragrance,
When thy wings to heaviness sink,
Thou dost choose a jail of stink,
To escape the wearied voyage
In a humid day
Of battering rain.
III. Nightsong
The day departs. Two mournful shadows rise
With voices vain and gloomy, blowing death.
Their bones decay, their heavy steps surmise
The dreary fears that men dare not confess.
Until a lance of light is thrown through night,
Diffusing odours sweet as blooming rose,
Then they dissolve like morning dew in flight
Of dread, and find in tombs eterne repose.
The chaste and gentle moon of Love ascends
In perfect glory, shining dizzy beams
On those resentful phantoms’ timely ends,
Dispersing haunting dreams with silver gleams.
The spinning wheel of life then rolls apace,
Across the land serene, in endless grace.
IV. Mystical Pageantry
Many a bird is singing in the forest
Of reverie and mirth, with various music
Floating through the decaying trees deformed
By endless battering of dragging years.
Pageants of Queens and Kings bizzarely march
With solemn precision and knightly strength
Penetrating the trembling air of morning
And piercing through the mystery of summer.
V. Blackbird
A blackbird hops along the street, her steps
Tender and light, her eyes amass the breath
Of gentle purple dawn and crimson sun
Of June, the loving prophecy of life,
Delicate forms of nature’s patient art.
O, thou embassador of Endless Rhymes!
Thy song transcends the petty scope of minds
And flies across the slow and crawling Time,
Towards the region strange, unknown, sublime,
A heart renewed, a forehead divine!
VI. Crescendo
O, Gentle Soul,
Gently breathing sorrow,
Sighing like a Deluge foretold
By the Lightening fierce and bold
Bursting through the purple Nights of Old
Before the Crescent Moon wore her garments cold.