Sigh Clone Love
How my eyes could sigh just to see your cloneHeaven drifts visions of Elysium yon spent
Through the shifting blues of this Dantesque gloom
Ah, the world should not pity your tragic poet, Love
Shall be my burning cross of atonement to bear for another's sins,
And for my own, accused for being of the curst sons of Cain,
(bearing that unloved original mark)
I accept the damnation of all my brethren to bear as my own
How could the weight of such undying devotion pray for any less?
Visions of The Providential Graces are reserved for those absolved of worldly blame
You may not count my bowed shoulders and bent back amongst such rare elect
Please, never do such a thing, that would only shame the driven nature of my doomed quest
To encounter, embrace with mad furor the subject, the form, the angelic voice of all desires
Lead me only to you and all alone
How my eyes could sigh just to see your clone...
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2014-04-20 at 23:38
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