Dawn peaks its listless amber beams through Spring's windowpane;
A birth from birth, baptized by spark of virgin flame.
Smoldering leaf, cradled in briar's immaculate grain;
Fair sibling to maiden chalice, lavished in crimson stain.
Its leaves whisper the promised secrets to flesh and bone;
And so, the first page is splayed within immortal tome.
Yet, untold chapters shall lay forever unknown;
An endless kingdom built upon visceral stone.
A young, bright Summer's day and its fresh, fragrant breeze;
Desire quenched easily by fertile ground and healthy seed.
Oh, to inhale all its wonderment with relative ease!
A voracious soul that only ruby-red sacrament can appease.
Constant reminder is the cruel parchment and ink;
That after the lavish banquette, a dessert of bitter defeat.
One more memorial toast, sealed with silent clink;
But, for now, comforting is the warmth of fire and drink.
The haze of dusk, and with it, slithers Autumn's tranquil bite;
As the exhausted breaths of phantasm vapor aspire to rise.
Ablaze are the leaves, burning brilliantly in their glories spite;
Brief are the artist's gifts of passionate fire and elixir-ed delight.
Upon the reader, corporeal fortunes are generously cast;
And beat by beat, the priceless treasures amass.
But, encased within the pages, stitched up in history's past;
The hidden lesson: fragrance, taste and tales seldom last.
Midnight shadows blanket beneath Winter's frigid gale;
No crops left to harvest ― nor sacred desires to quell.
Our spirits become wisp, when the smoldering embers undoubtedly fail;
And, with a final sip, we are commended to a single line within this enduring tale.
This tattered volume ― bound in blood, leather and twine:
A fine testament to the relentless march of all humankind;
But, even within its own life, lessons and all things divine ―
There has ultimately been more truth in ashes and wine.
A birth from birth, baptized by spark of virgin flame.
Smoldering leaf, cradled in briar's immaculate grain;
Fair sibling to maiden chalice, lavished in crimson stain.
Its leaves whisper the promised secrets to flesh and bone;
And so, the first page is splayed within immortal tome.
Yet, untold chapters shall lay forever unknown;
An endless kingdom built upon visceral stone.
A young, bright Summer's day and its fresh, fragrant breeze;
Desire quenched easily by fertile ground and healthy seed.
Oh, to inhale all its wonderment with relative ease!
A voracious soul that only ruby-red sacrament can appease.
Constant reminder is the cruel parchment and ink;
That after the lavish banquette, a dessert of bitter defeat.
One more memorial toast, sealed with silent clink;
But, for now, comforting is the warmth of fire and drink.
The haze of dusk, and with it, slithers Autumn's tranquil bite;
As the exhausted breaths of phantasm vapor aspire to rise.
Ablaze are the leaves, burning brilliantly in their glories spite;
Brief are the artist's gifts of passionate fire and elixir-ed delight.
Upon the reader, corporeal fortunes are generously cast;
And beat by beat, the priceless treasures amass.
But, encased within the pages, stitched up in history's past;
The hidden lesson: fragrance, taste and tales seldom last.
Midnight shadows blanket beneath Winter's frigid gale;
No crops left to harvest ― nor sacred desires to quell.
Our spirits become wisp, when the smoldering embers undoubtedly fail;
And, with a final sip, we are commended to a single line within this enduring tale.
This tattered volume ― bound in blood, leather and twine:
A fine testament to the relentless march of all humankind;
But, even within its own life, lessons and all things divine ―
There has ultimately been more truth in ashes and wine.
