Gaze for to see,
In quintessence of secrecy.
Deep in the depths fancy is free.
Fused in thirsty veins: black as ash,
Beautiful and loathsome there splash.
Fancies lie grand,
Conflagration: soon dealt in hand…
Revealed: a dense forest land.
Sometimes is green,
Sparkling with sureties pristine,
Glittering the heart with serene.
A peaceful unseen.
Other times trees,
Fraught with searing perplexities,
Hang o’er my hand,
Swaying grave pleas.
For comes the black sickness train,
Riding on its’ track.
Standing unsure on the tracks’ crack.
A loud clash screams,
Breaking of stiff, cold, iron-beams.
Scraps whisper silent languid dreams;
Of emerald which gleams!
Fancy is found,
With mystified colors around,
And luster of death now on ground.
In this secret-land I’m aware,
Of this lifes’ mischievous snare;
Moments ‘tween despair.
Glimpse a whimsy,
Shown just ‘yond the forest-dim…see?
Sweet-green: realities flimsy.
For the train comes,
Tarnishing green with black-steel scums,
Taking fancy to reals’ slums,
Through black forests’ numbs.
Stir me to find,
Mirages’ black death swift steam-lined,
By demon conductors’ spell-bind.
Dressed in hells’ fire.
Blistering. Consuming kind acquire.
From dreams grasping peaceful-admire.
For in the head,
Emerald forest-land fancies tread,
Mixed with black trees of days fled.
The train destroys and peace is bled.
I wake in my bed.
K. Aldaya, 2/9/05