The Pharos

Beholder

I carry the metre of my beauty — as a beacon,

amongst a bevy of beauties —

bathing in the uninhabited pools

of tears flagellated upon my perception

And yet —you the beholder see blindly, not

of their beauty, but that of mine,

wandering in the echoes in the wilderness’ divide

They wade in the shallow parts

the steppes, where horsemen crossed, the

grasslands — into my civilization

My beauty distinct, amongst a crowd of barbarians,

seen by the masses — deciphered by one,

conquers only you

As you tarry amongst the ruins — I write for you,

seven soulless words — you envy my dialect,

and bask in my language — of laughing tears

A Pharos guides your eyes, to behold my vanishing beauty

amongst the raving hoards, It dwindles in your iris’s stream,

its light stills upon the breath of a shimmer — allowing

you to shore in the darkness

Behold my beauty, beholder — thief of the nights light, and

the mornings after hours,

its wick burned bright but for an age,

it shined its brightest, upon the blushing yawn of your shadow

it blinded your eye — a wreck upon the ruined shores of fate

My beauty you beheld — skinned deep

It reigned — my beauty did, upon your beveled glass,

shattering your mirrored surface

A bevy of beauties, bathed in the shards, you

plucked from your sight

denied by all but your tunneled vision

You raided my light, beholder of the crown, with

the eye of a connoisseur, drunk as a lord, you’re

civil as night falls upon its knees —

Alexandria a mirage — you bow, into

its evanescing distance —

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. Dec 29, 2019. All Rights Reserved.