Tempests of Thought

In Tempests of Thought Thou first Unspiraled
Mystery to Every mind,
But fact to Thee, like its own fiction spinning;
Deductions Simple, that none else shall find.

Casting back Thy Silken Locks, where Thou Gazest sharply,
To Pique Thine Interest, fortune plays a hand,
But given over to Conscientiousness,
Hints of Thy true nature to Understand.

Clues in lesser shadow falling than in darkest night,
To Tempt Thy Passions, most bemusing,
While Accosted in the fleeting light of day
By floods of details, generously accusing.

Lest by Thy Brilliance to unfold Thy complex nature,
Guilt in shadows for lesser things unspoken,
Chide Thy jailor with reckless tedium pacing,
While Piquant Treasure lies untested and unbroken.

And when Thy mortal merit seeks transitory pause,
To kindle a semblance of keen distraction,
Delirium in its Splendor passing,
All too Fleeting in Sweet mental Abstraction.

Kissed not once, yet Passion ever hounding,
In places splintered by apparitional haze;
Twilight settles upon Thy Shoulders, weeping,
To find fear within Thy ever questing Gaze.

Untold secrets, all asunder, in Thy compass guiding,
With ruse of purpose tailor made for Thee,
While Watchmen run in rampant circles, aimless,
Profession of Thy Wits, Elementary.

Yet, In quiet moments that entreat Thy Soul,
Reaching for a notion that yet escapes Thee,
Touching One whose features numb Contemplation,
What Considerations Tempt? Thou Shalt not See.

Deliberate Disparity, to hide Thy Longing Soul;
In Duplicity Thou hidest in plain sight;
While none may query such Silence Breaking,
Shattering Thy Ruse like Shards of Light.

Success is measured in Measures on the page,
In Music Sweet, thriving just beyond Thy ken,
Where Devils sit enthroned while Angels Bending,
To Touch Thy ‘haviour, Transforming from within.

For as the darkened night Peals Mornings Dawn,
And Thou dost Waken from perilous dreams,
Avenues once walked in Certainty,
Falling in Shadows, now not what it seems.

Echoes Accusatory rake their icy hand,
And twist Thy Judgment like a feeble Pawn;
Decisions based on subterfuge, misguided,
Taint Thy Character and mask Thy Cerebral brawn.

Menace creeps on stealthy hooves, like demonic sorcery,
Trapping to its purpose all Thy Provocation,
While Innocent of threat, Companions walking,
Forcing Thine Unselfish Abdication.

‘Til Pain in moments most Diligently Guarded
Speaks into the Hush of mortal sorrow,
Delving not the flagrant Ruse, to Ponder,
What Mysteries Shall Waken upon the Morrow.

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Magnifying Glass Image found at: commons.wikimedia.org
Graveside Image found at: Sherlock BBC

Tags: death, desire, dreams, literature, poem, poems, poetry, poetry blog, poets, poets corner