The Essence

By Matthew Bartlett

The shadow of an unknown power floats
above me, a shadow without shape,
An eidolon unseen
In delphic, cool dances on rainy clouds,
Coming and going like Shelley’s “Spirit of Beauty”
In the swishing wisp of a scythe through hyacinth.
I am touched by the anoesis;
The great nomadic death
Of folie a plusieurs …
And I cry for man’s terrible abnegation
Of Spirit for blessing the terrible ruination of the church.
But this essence bestows whole concertos,
Staccato frothy movements
Through my bruising veins’ busy highways.
This essence, this emanation of Parvati
Gets my sweet cum splashing!
Her bright abandoned skin that silks the tree leaves, milks the women of infirmity.
And I feel twice alive, inebriated in the ecstasy of the twice-born’s Maenads!
This overwhelming beauty that makes manic my senses,
I must break it in pieces to endure,
And leave in mighty words of love unbridled and impermanence
Of self, dissonance of love
entering into man bearing nothing but a beating heart
To beat the vein with.
Hence I’d be blinded as eyes yet to see what
They cannot comprehend,
As the ‘lucente sustanza’ that Dante’s gaze
Couldn’t withhold
Of the glorious rapture of Christ
I cry tears for many years of madness that can never be undone;
I carry wrought iron ghost of tar smack abortions!
Within himself! Within us all!
Great emblazoned amazement beating
Of my heart,
Still covered in ashes of disease
Grows with every future second I foresee.

Category: Featured, Poetry