Short Poem by Devlin Hudson
Can I behold those dark eyes?
That you hide when you lie?
What about when I come to know the truth,
As time passes by?
As I avidly walk into the dark,
The dark of your eyes.
Bare astounding glory,
Draped with naked pride.
The inferno lights my way,
Through where the evil stones lay,
Drained in blood, the blood of sinners,
Bemoaning, “Those eyes, oh, those two eyes”
Tell me, do these vows go in vain?
The loud cries of Medusa’s snakes,
Fills the frightened air.
The creatures swarming on Devil’s neck ask,
“How much human hast thee left?”
Oh, this thirst that quenches itself.
I’m standing where Eris wept,
With tears of blood and roars
“This thirst, oh, this thirst…..
My sanctity serves me not.
Little had I known before…
That your ubiquitous eyes deprecate discord.”
Your scimitar hangs lowly,
From the gateway of disbelief.
I said, gratified by salted cheeks,
“This is where good and evil meet.
Frightened, I am not.
But immensely conceited, you see.”
I realize why you are fetish, my liege.
Hush, my plebeians..
For those draconian eyes peep in,
Through the iridescent door.
His ire clad in candor.
Clemency unveiling the same eyes,
I had seen desolation in.
“Why do you keep it hidden from me?”
I rant with cordial dismay.
“Am I” with rapture said he,
“as ethereal as you, my Princess?”
It was merely an idyll.
Barely been touched by sated grace,
When holding my hand to his chest, he trod away.
To the apex of transcendence we reached.
I realize that he is debonair, my liege.
Holding close lest falling into smithereens.
Disrobing the beauty in your eyes I’ve seen.
The thirst was gone when I descried.
There was the castle of the isolated paradise,
Standing by the union of mortal and divine,
With chthonic monsters that the walls define.
But the sepulcher that lies
Behind the glooming marguerites,
Was what I least expected to see.
“My liege”, I questioned him,
“What thing is that I see?
There! Behind those beautiful marguerites?”
“That, my Princess,” he said with glee,
“is a tomb. My parents lay there in reverie.”
Shocked, I was, to see him in such state.
Little had I expected him to be serene.
I realize that he is stone-cold, my liege.
As we enter the castle,
We sing the song of ice and fire.
For he’s like ice, freezing cold,
And I exist with my burning soul.
He calls me poison, as in poison ivy.
But I wonder he knows,
That I’m a mirror he sees.
His turpitude creates a blank eclat,
As he looks across the water and smiles,
Smiles egregiously or so it seems.
“Look,” his gravitas disappeared again,
“Won’t you go over there?” he said.
I walked, as he pointed, as gracefully as I could.
I looked up to see an equally graceful landscape.
“It is beautiful, my liege.” I say,
“Which place does this little canvas potray?”
Before he could answer, I looked once more.
It wasn’t a picture. Of that, I was sure.
“It is a portal” he said,
“It takes you wherever you want to be.”
He took my hands close to his chest,
I could feel his heart on my fingertips.
He isn’t human but his heart does beat,
The divine rhythm of elements entwined.
I realize that he is earthly, my liege.
We entered the portal,
It’s length twice of mine.
I expected to see what I had seen,
When I felt his heart beat.
Then I returned once again to his eyes,
Sitting next to him was I,
Stiff like the statuettes.
Those eyes, those beautiful eyes,
That show me what I want to see,
Have never themselves got fortune to behold,
Anything in this mighty world.
I realize that he is my soul mate, my liege.