Upon one Night's tempest, my hunger did beckon ever darkly:
"In nomine dei Nostri Satanas Luciferi Excelsi!"
And in the perfume of immortality, I bathed deep and long ....
Within the labyrinth of melancholy, I am the black flame gleaming;
befallen in the mist when closed thine eyes
Harken thee, River's blush weeping scarlet in nocturnal ballad
In orphaned prophecy, I am the lust of sacrament —
dark enchantment wanton — Hade's syrup undressing in your soul
I have crossed oceans of time, haunted by thy gaze and lips,
lost in whispers of passion dripping like song into folding horizons
Eons spent, yet thy figure dark, I crave solemn upon Raven's call
For thou art the breath of a rose entombed in velvet-nightfall ...
'Our lives are but confessions of beasts and things forsaken;
— woven into a bloody tapestry of a Lover's fable
My wound is the requiem of the sky, the exodus of daylight
Across sanguine fields I hath sojourned, coveting winds sable
Seek you me, for eternity would surely fade, lest I drink you deep
Intoxicated by your love; rendered by shadow and plutonian lore
Here I shall rest in the netherworld, unto dreams decay evermore
— Arthur Crow © 2012