The Belt Of Venus
Sleep berates my attempt to attend closely to moments I recount,
they tumble as frothy waves upon the dove white sands that fill the hours
that pass languorously behind the portieres of my eyes — my lashes as wishes
flutter a prayer, Aër
that you will be there on the other side of my dreams, my reach, — I pray for
your soul as —
I sell my own to the visions you expressed awake — in our time, upon the
broad shoulders of your smile
Are there any tears where you rest, where I can tenderly meander upon the hollows of your
cheeks, and settle upon the meridian of your lips — a lexeme, a colloquy, an
axiom
do you still harbour dreams, wherein I can confess that I wished to have
expired with you —
do my imaginings reach you, an asterisk to guide you in the cacophony of
the silence of these eternal nights
or have the wings of love, a thief — stolen them playfully away before they
make their
ascent — lost amongst the grains of sand that whittle the skies in
bereavement — blinking
upon the remnants of my tears
Does mankind, humanism exist where you have lost your form in the void,
did you not take the memory of us with you — that you have forgotten me so
quickly — an afterthought in your haste, in your lack of pretension, to forget
that you saved me — to live
My love, my eyes, my thought, my dream, my hopes and fears, my place of
everything did they not
tell you, “If you save one life, you have saved mankind”,
Did you not taste the bitterness upon my last kiss, my caressing tears — that
mankind as the
grains of sand and stars cannot hold a light to that last goodbye, that the
nights have become endless days, and the night cruel allows me not to step
into the imaginings of you, the void mourns the creation birthed, the meters
between man and kind
and I mourn the moon’s distance from the Belt of Venus,
— the other side of midnight’s folly, with the other side of the many faces of Eve I wear in the penance of your
death.
Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. July 2, 2020. All Rights Reserved.






