Scarless Madonna in the magisterium of fire
She was the enchantress of sleeping Earth
Madonna the abandoned Weaver of Worlds
We were as displaced in the day-graves
I gazed at the tarnished earth’s scarred face
Geode horizons, I longed and lavished their light
It was a carnage dawn
And I was the sacrifice of night’s black caravans
The wager! of awakening!
We were passengers in a universe of lightning
Nightingales prison
Who could suffer the morning’s intrusion
Madonna of the abandonments
I panicked like a newborn doe
Hanging by oblivion’s rope
The heavens were cleaved, the seas were tempests
These were the wasted lands
Madonna the mythologist
Inhabit the ribs of lightning
This world was your dream
Sirens drowning in the seas of Being
I heard their screams rising from azure
Beyond the flooding worlds
Shivering pupils of diamantine fire
Madonna the marginal
Spring was a chalice of poison lilies
Feeding the flesh reveries
Cycles of the abyss
Slaughter of the sorrowed & wounded ones
These were wasted lands
Like desecrated acres of Paradise
Last supper crusader, Madonna of the storm mountains
The winds were fire, and I witnessed:
An unreal city, burning Beirut
Carnations transcending their flame graves
Pietà of the midnights
Ruin—it was rising!
Ruin—it was surviving!
I was in a chrysalis
When the apocalypse rose like Vesuvian black ash
and I witnessed—
Madonna of late apocalypse, devouring souls
Roaring torrents of moonlight beyond the flooded worlds
Widowed light, it was desire like divine labour
I reached the event horizon and felt the void rise in me
Madonna the Melancholy
Cradle to grave, the sleeping deities were winged miracles of light
That survived by hiding in vespertine twilight
Madonna drowning in the seas of Being
While raining fire incinerated the Earth-eves