False Darkness

I wear a cloak of darkness ,

Not out of prosaic sadness ,

But as my Auspex ,

which guards my Places

From agencies of fallen graces

Those ogres and bulls 

who walk in finesse

For they threaten to trample,
The butterflies by the sensitive bud,
With their muddy feet,
Sore with clots of own blood.

The Darkness in my apparent gardens
Protects us .

Only a self-lit Angel can walk,
Through these corridors; pitch dark
To my heart's caves ,in which I keep
The colorful gems I found on Highways
where ruby's sprout
Like in dreamy lands and surreal plays,

Where golden- green grass swings
Upon giggling summer afternoon winds,
That await now ;the evening
Like a newly wed awaits, her esteem.

How bright these caves
Of myriad colors of Orphic fable,
Of magic potions,
Violet ,Scarlet ,Gray and purple .
Boiling .

Of trees which have for leaves,
soothing ,consoling ,balmy palms ,
Which heals of death ;a deep wound
Like an Enlightened beam
competing with thousand suns
underground.

Of wise soft rains yonder
that gently dampens ,
The carpet of rye ;
beneath the sky
Made of dews’ glittering canvas.

If you once see these sights,

Why then in fright? Would you turn back?

Stay; and leave not the Magic castle,

Made of glass and of my soul’s  fiber.