Enigma (Symbolist Poem) Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

I.
In the conglomeration of possibilities, the child of your dream endowed with vision, holds the hand of the child on the beach in front of you. The flowers of your dreams perfume the marine atmosphere like those in the garden of delicate Zen jasmine. The heart of an anterior love falls in love with the lovers holding hands on the beach, with the child between them forming the sacred pyramid of creation, in the crepuscular splendour of orange-rosy glow of the sun, sinking into the enigmatic profoundness of the sea.

II.
The fragrance of gardenia, —balsam for travelling through the neurotic labyrinth of your brain's connectivity; to remind you of the hedgerow-labyrinth of your heart you have forgotten in the past: lost, still in love, still lingering in a desperate hope at the corners of a mazy perplexity; whilst, the time mocks your visage in the oxidised mirror you do not dare to look into...

III.
—There is no resemblance of your former sparkles in your eyes; no dilated pupils with desire for the forbidden fruit of creation, for fantasies enveloping your senses, for fire to consume your being in ardent nocturnal passions, for blood to timidly burn in your cheeks, for fluttering of wings in your eyelashes blinks, —in the austere asceticism of your reflection.

IV.
—No lips plumped like a ripe nectarine to savour in the summer of ripe passion: succulent with the madness of songs, delirious beneath the anticipation of embraces, trembling in the sea breeze for the touch of fingers caressing along the tempests of your hidden desires! …Those slim, feminine fingers opening the fertile apricot, to offer the pit of perpetuation next to you, on a road to no-where…

V.
It was that month of May: the month when some flowers may, or may not blossom: —it blossomed with the other's rain of tears…!

VI.
The scent of gardenia emanates memories of a mountain-forest in the night, with statuesque trees erected like phalluses towards the midnight-ink-blue sky, penetrating the clitoridean Selene: those thousands of spermatozoids accelerating towards the ovule to conceive progeny of fire: like the stellar constellations upon the firmament of Romance. The mountains emanate tender memories at their summit of love, illuminated with love, tasting like pink and blue babies: sweets dissolving again on the taste buds of memory; — dissolving love in the face of adversary.

VII.
Dreams manifesting before jealous eyes: we have lived them in those moments in the taciturn gaze of our eyes, in the eerie jocundity energised by the invisible hands of the devil, orchestrating a show of lacerating cruelty and jealousy. We have felt what we have imagined; we have spoken not a single word: we were only eyes and souls. The dialogue flowed freely like a liquid, fermenting with meanings; they were rising with signification, evaporating with comprehension into our hearts: flattered, fired, fevered for the communication of feelings, which remained mute upon our lips: moist, ripe, and ready for kisses—kisses we have never kissed; lips we have never touched: veritably virgin!

VIII.
In the background, multitudes of voices wasting the oxygen in trivialities, the energy in emphasis; filled with a fake extravagance inexplicable for the moment: a conglomeration of parallel conversations; the faction's genuflections, mimicking each other's gestures, the chaotic tribal vociferation: —the pathetic play of the party! The sperm whale's eyes ravenous for the meat: O the vulgar licking of her fatty fingers…! —the obsidian entrails, obscene with frissons of fornication: obsessed with penetration since the primal eruption of Cosmic Volcanoes: Dark Matter—dark matter!

IX.
The comedy of stupidity—the societal conformity: puppets of a pantomime, onerous for our oneiric hearts, perforating the enigmatic heartbeat of our love… The caustic eyes slicing the ether of the mountain-night could not extinguish the luminous radiance of our eyes: the rock-strata, solid with endurance, the rock-music of rebellious long hair of liberty…!

X.
Our conduct we preserved it; as always, impeccable; in concordance with the societal rules: apathetic to love and atrophied to emotion; in an enigmatic hermitage of hearts; in a histrionic company interlaced with the lies, and the malodorous hypocrisy of the world. Shards of emotions are scratching the hearts still enamoured, exterminating the egos; the carnivalesque masks are crumbling at the February's feet of the truth; the dreams return to their dreamy domain; the enigma of love remains.