The Jarring Of Midnight Dew Poem by Mark Heathcote

The Jarring Of Midnight Dew



What permanent vanquished beauty
what tyrannical sea of change
transmutes and transmogrifies
all that is indigenous to atoms
rock, iron, wood, salt, root, flesh, and bone
what increments are rooting for you?
In us in this archaic, masquerade.
What sagacity, what foresight-
inch us forwards singular
into an esoteric silhouette
what everlasting beauty
imbibe through you so you too
can be tantalised and bid for
the jarring of His midnight dew
enchantments moth flame repository.

Thursday, February 16, 2012
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