The Cunning Splendor.

when sadness comes to me,
i am drawn out,
a leave tattered under a tree;
wilted by the slight
thrust of wind,
i am swollen.

when the echoes come to me,
i am silent,
whispered beneath branches;
the thoughts of air
gently compressed
where i am buried.

under shadows,
awake by day light,
everything forgotten,
we are new again.

bring me pleasures,
so i can pursue them,
and my body
can become
a burden of your lust.

take me places,
until i can taste them,
so my mind reposed,
will channel,
all the islands of the sun.

we will masquerade around,
beneath the cities that emit
sharp lights
and cunning splendors.

we will dance endless,
oh how we will move,
toward the abominable
present
that no longer
seeks our despair.

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this is about how things are never how they appear, or how you wish them; the picture full with lush and color, yet underneath, a very morose existence. we live in a way, where things are pretending constantly; the grand mirage. some depression to that, a feeling of never achieving pure satisfactions because there are intricacies that tell tall tales. in my poem, i wish to annihilate all that is not a true representation of the highest. it is part of my journey through my hidden true self. it is dark, the poem, with hints of vibrant colors. at least that's how i perceive it.