Opulent Poem by John Weber

The chamber once sprawled
without the comfort of softness.
Each step would echo off the
cruel marble without sympathy
for the churn of my blood taunts
as it yearns to fluidly move free.

Ornate tapestries drape with
the audacity of age wrapped
in dust, the grime of centuries
of shed skin from victim and
pillager alike looking to find
a similar in the lulling breeze.

From my earliest, these fibers
dazzled eyes with wonder naive
to spark waves of illumination
that rippled in imagination until
I never found myself alone inside
the sanctum of voice made flesh.

Despite the haunt of lunacy,
I build a new loom in darkness
to keep proximity narrow yet
focused true upon urgent threads
checkered in design coercive
in my mind before clacking into

code.