Owed To Another Ode Poem by Norman F. Santos

If you’ll find yourself in the midst of fierce winds and glacial lances
In the scrutinizing cornea of the storm where darkness dances and prances
You would hear a rummaging voice, a wail yearning to fulminate
In your clasped ears devoured by fear, sore enough to deteriorate
Whispering a code, the key to a labyrinthine yonder the wicked storm
Asserting an intrusion of blind devotion reaped from another maelstrom
And along the shriek shrilling melody there would be a spark of light
Ephemeral forking flash, to hark back your eyes its aptitude to take flight
From a single-angled view to the phantoms and chances reveling in the milieu
If hope is blinding, then so is loathing; vindication basks within you.

If you’ll find yourself excoriating the layers of the scorching aurora of the sun
Shunning the streaks of light, undraping to probe another fear to out run
You would burn beneath the bludgeoning rivers, drown in ethereal fire
When you find endless anguish and torment beneath a flaming quagmire
And your sightless eyes would depart from life just to recognize
What has been there all along; a singsong carom accompanying the lies
We dream with oblivious eyes, find darkness in the garish light
We owe this to our frail constitutions; all too scarce and blight
From the estoque of blades where we gladly surrender and die
If faith is a diversion, then so is conceding; you know where salvation lies.