Gaia Hypothesis

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A zephyr’s kiss, of gusts and gales,

slowly strips the suffocation

from a mid-march air

A cloistered cache, evinced

of polarizing vespers—found strung,

tied within a vanguards gate

Harbingers of a typecast trichotomy,

bred to enunciate meaning behind the

grammars, masticating upon wisdom eschewed

Angels laced in iron-wrought

spiral indecision, sidling tween

walls, vaults and seam

The cost an artist pays

endowing life unto each

his renderings

Lucid posterns—unhinged

by premeditative discrepancy—

release the encrusted panes

Onyx painted Oriels—jut in cantilever

supporting cornice and balcony

amassing all which jalousie would not let glow

II.

Where ravens spite elocution’s cause

smiting foundations teem in gaze, as

vociferates travail miasma’s stygian haze

Of beleaguered artisans—indentured

and accosted by, philosophies buried deep,

within the fissures of an unripe mind

Burnt by reactions—forepassed, bygone—

already in the apertures, ever-afflicted

by assiduous decline

Emotive assailants inaudibly defined,

by repeals bound asunder to both

infinite space and burrowed time

While piercing deep the flesh, simply to feel something,

newborn talons scar

what attrition’s left to be tamed—

And as the chasm sprawls, its untenable vortex

spreads wide and vast—until ouroboros forms first gasp;

 a beacon, indicating that soon, the future will become the past