Under the Weight of the Seed
The caves of desire lay beneath the glass dome, a lonely paradise.
And the transparent glass reflects not me, but a puny parasite.
The glass dome lies beneath my frail and weak hand,
And the cold glass makes me shudder; oh! Forbidden wonderland.
I see her sleeping calm and serene, my beautiful princess.
But the impenetrable glass keeps me from her—pure and sinless.
This touch-less scene drags me under the weight of the seed.
The emptiness claims me and takes me away from the glass keep.
Fate carries me to a deserted beach, starless and dark,
And through the night I dreamt of you flying with a lark.
I am that lark, courting you, a multicolored nightingale,
And we flew over the sea and burnt our wings in a fiery hell.
Waking, I saw the sun had risen, blazing crimson red,
And tiny drops of blood on the sea, where the sun had bled.
The lark is gone and the nightingale forever vanished.
What could I do but wallow hopeless in the tears I shed?
Dawn left me alone, the sand burning the souls of my feet.
I take the seed and swallow knowing this will be the last time,
That I dream of you flying next to me one more night.
Gently and wearily I fall, again, under the weight of the seed.
