Staffs Of Fading

Gazes into the abyss,
fingers tightly wrapped
around the staff of life,
while the call upon the heart
pulsates with its vitality.

But there is darkness
in the robust roams
and the watch care vigil
decays in its zenith.
Oh frail heart beneath the iron
seeing visions with morbid stains,
this moment of trespass
upon the surety of strolls
across the layers of lucidity
where life was a tranquil illusion.

Now the mask is gone
the heart again an aging throb,
no eyes to look into the magic
for the wand has become
a key to a fleeting dreams
and the stare sires its stickers
while inside we bleed.

One whimper to exhale,
one sob to drown in song,
yet the reaper still carves a skull
to fracture the fragile vase of hope.

Eden’s whiffs turns
into stale and putrid scents
as the heart claws for what is lost,
perhaps a reverie will yield wings
before dawn slays the fancy,
left swimming in a pool of tears.