I. The Bells of Black Sheep

Dark clouds congregate across the sky

Of crystal blue, where a fragile butterfly

Attempts to soar high with golden wings

For vain hope, swirling and flitting in the wind.

Above the clouds twenty sheep solemnly stand,

Proud their mien, regal even, like the ministers

Heralding demise, those from that mysterious land

Of decay and despair, tolling the bells of disaster.

The sound is slow and heavy, pulsating like heartbeats

Which blindly run through the threads of creation

And end with a knit of mighty necessity, leaving

Visages pale, wings broken and hearts drown in emotion.

The faerie butterfly, beholding the upcoming abyss,

Calmly accepts her destiny, and begins to dream

The sweetest dream she could ever conceive,

A dream of blooming flowers dancing,

Of music flowing, infants smiling,

Of moonlight shining, suns rising,

Of Garden of Eden endowed with original beauty,

Everything joyfully living.

Fear dissipates in the reverie of hope,

And bells seem to cease for its sake, idling

Away the hours of their noonday, considering

The possibility of a starlit night, though fleeting,

With the most astonishing display

Of butterfly dance, which can illuminate

Even the darkest dale in the universe.

The flood of light effuses from the sky.

II. A Bee’s Escapism

Here comes a golden bee,

Fleeing from its drenchèd flight,

Buzzing round a pile of dung.

O, fair dweller of sweet fragrance,

When thy wings to heaviness sink,

Thou dost choose a jail of stink,

To escape the wearied voyage

In a humid day

Of battering rain.

III. Nightsong

The day departs. Two mournful shadows rise

With voices vain and gloomy, blowing death.

Their bones decay, their heavy steps surmise

The dreary fears that men dare not confess.

Until a lance of light is thrown through night,

Diffusing odours sweet as blooming rose,

Then they dissolve like morning dew in flight

Of dread, and find in tombs eterne repose.

The chaste and gentle moon of Love ascends

In perfect glory, shining dizzy beams

On those resentful phantoms’ timely ends,

Dispersing haunting dreams with silver gleams.

The spinning wheel of life then rolls apace,

Across the land serene, in endless grace.

IV. Mystical Pageantry

Many a bird is singing in the forest

Of reverie and mirth, with various music

Floating through the decaying trees deformed

By endless battering of dragging years.

Pageants of Queens and Kings bizzarely march

With solemn precision and knightly strength

Penetrating the trembling air of morning

And piercing through the mystery of summer.

V. Blackbird

A blackbird hops along the street, her steps

Tender and light, her eyes amass the breath

Of gentle purple dawn and crimson sun

Of June, the loving prophecy of life,

Delicate forms of nature’s patient art.

O, thou embassador of Endless Rhymes!

Thy song transcends the petty scope of minds

And flies across the slow and crawling Time,

Towards the region strange, unknown, sublime,

A heart renewed, a forehead divine!

VI. Crescendo

O, Gentle Soul,

Gently breathing sorrow,

Sighing like a Deluge foretold

By the Lightening fierce and bold

Bursting through the purple Nights of Old

Before the Crescent Moon wore her garments cold.