Milky tears fall from icy clouds
When the circumference of the
Earth’s tone has remitted all silence.
For falling to the blistering darkness
Is electrical whispers surrounding
My heart with fire.
I’m withheld by the mountains
Where a deep resonate song
Can be heard by the crows.
Shivering all around me
Is the fallen star who became
The angel of the night time
I’m fortified by rich melodies
Bestowed upon my heart,
And drink in my tears of
Forever beheld and begotten
By destiny’s call to join the heart
And play my harpsichord as loudly
As I can.
I lifted my voice in song in the echoes
Of time’s doors to the Lord to offer
Up a cherished melody building upon
The anguish burning within it is
An all calling hearth which surrenders
To the purple mountains in all their
However, if I should fall into the sea,
How will my melody be heard when
All the waters cry when the Lord’s
Dove drifts in the stars?
Forever begotten by his pulse beating
On in my heart, I have become the song
Which has become me;
Forever joined by the knot of fate.
It is such bonding which has sealed
A stolen prayer inside my heart.
For it is stolen; yet, borrowed by
The truth held in the lungs of the winds.
All voices can be heard in their anguish,
Letting out their yells.
For mine is the call to fire which brings
A seed to be planted into crevices beholding
By the earth.
When every tear is broken down, a fever
Burns inside of me.
For if there is an echo in the wind,
It is my subconscious cry in the morning.
Yet, what is the morning without day
And night which are meant to
Compliment one another?
For my night time star has always been
The dove which ascends me in times
For it is the fury burning up the all time
Vessel when I’m carried away into the
Realm of dreams.
For it is there I see what wonders be told
By the foundlings in the night.
If only I could bleed out the anguish
Burning inside my heart to become
The light I once knew in the night
Where the holiest march beats on
For a drum.
I’m withheld by every stern goodbye;
Yet, there shall always be the hello
Fostering my heart when angels
Play their harps in song for the lambs.
For it is the lambs which bestow every
Blessed tiding upon my head.
They are ordered out by the Lord
Himself to foretell of my stream
When tears fall into her grave.
For my heart shall continue to
Burn inside until the end of time
And leading me into the beginning
Of a new tide.
I am part of her song,
And she a part of my light
Which burns up in the heavens
At night when I sleep.
There is a wonder in the mystic
Caves; however, I now thirst
For the holiness of the holy
To break down my door
And pull me out of the fire
If ever there was a call for help,
The cry can now be heard.
Lord, sanctify my tears.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016