In the ruby vault Sorrow rushes in
most unexpectedly.
Two pools of blue, and black spider-legs
The voice of a lost Angel.
No more tympanic symphony--
Only sounds that open the Water-faucet
In the ruby vault regret ebbs
a vision of the man in white--
The sparkling feathers
And the irremediable lacerations
I want to colour the sky gold again please
Please let me
Unlock my paints brushes inspiration
that wait in the recesses of the ruby vault.
...
The only real fruit of studying for my philosophy final so far is this poem.
Friday, April 22, 2011
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