The Labyrinth Poem by Anthony V. S. Smith

With Epiphany of awareness standing where fade
is such, that the caterwaul existence of excoriates,
Sussuruss stood in the slightest light, down a glade,
Which along its length, stood-like eldritch waits!
as I imagined myself eremite to aubade aplomb,
like the sinopia of a quetzal bird changing hue,
acoustic though, does silence the saccade calm,
assuring us, giving this once said minotaur clue!

Matching the wits peril of a columbine ravage-
I became close to what may be called a chimera,
the xanthous urge of cowardice would savage,
more of what fear brings, to the munificent era,
where if I were to stagnate now, like arsenic,
would appear invidious if I were to bluff peurile,
to the next would-be stammer etched aoristic,
enough to hammer the thing outright hostile!

To model on the paragons of the godly natures,
acclimatising to hyaline walls of high aubergine,
camouflaged like those bronze aoristic statures,
that have us awe struck when in having between,
a moment, to divagate what is needless threat,
closer, as darkness even urged us to whilom state,
penetrable, I think felt, as if standing next to it met,
was stolid in reconcile that cyaneous veins predate,

Low as I am impending able to point to the supine,
eagle-eyed on how injurious a bereavement wait,
would somehow remain, so having fabled a shrine,
a myth if risible, succeeding in what we call 'mutate',
pernicious whereabouts I call it, mystery to the last,
and whoever believes in Devil worship, and to bring,
the demi-god with whom following did lambaste,
I'll not tempt fate further than to deliver that thing!