¶ Purgatorio, Commedia II ⎟ PEA

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There was a time, dear, when
I was led by poets of yore
Through mountainous terrains,
penitent mourners, and the
sins they had cast.
I ascended the Spanish Steps
Heaving sonnets and verse,
trying to find my way to
Love.

On candlelit nights, sweet
with the scent of burning pipes,
You filled my belly with stories,
Rich fruit plucked from fearsome trees;
I seized hold of your words,
Clutching at them, catching at them,
like swirling smoke in my hands.

Seeds grew in my belly,
Ripe apples, plums, pomegranates, and
Intoxicating lyrics that inebriate
reason.
I swooned to your hymn,
And danced in the shadows cast
by the crackling, luminescent fire.

Captive and captivated by your presence,
I lapsed, malnourished,
on a diet of life and knowledge,
Our Hellenic silhouettes dancing upon the wall:
the only truth to comprehend
the only truth of love
the only truth
the only truth
that I may see.

The poets led me past my sins,
and I saw the pain and suffering
that we endure for the pleasure
of proving our devotion,
hoping our wickednesses
will be understood
and forgiven on the alter of
passion,
by one who loves us
completely.

Here I stand, alone,
atop the Spanish Steps,
chilled with
the fire of earthly desires,
I hold handfuls of water
and sand,
fathoming the
steadfast nature of
your fickle love.
–fin

giphy3

Wordplay Xx

 

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