The Air That I Write Poem by Marco Antonio Solano

hear, the sounds of whispers in your deaf ear
the voices that call, harrowing feelings that crawl
words written in air, born out of love and despair
today in fire begotten, tomorrow with haste forgotten

see the flaming eyes, the flickers of impending demise
light that tapers from within, attestation of places been
echoes of silence, cast upon ears of brazen indifference
words there in gold etched, here in blood pledged

feel their hearts pound, the fears that their souls confound
hands reaching out from beneath, through waters that seethe
oblations in vain, though please deign to grant quittance from pain
now ostensible commiseration, then their plea turns into vexation

unveil your disguise, this is not your sole paradise
time disdain will expose, and of your vile ways dispose
hear or see or feel, but heed the derelict's appeal
so that words are not lost in spite, this air that I write


Marco '94