Within the veils of tempest throes nest Mother Earth's regret,
Where empty words in jagged thirds from broken echoes jet.
That I, nearby, in blind pursuit, misguided from the mark,
Found crimson petals, lined with grace, while fumbling through the dark.
I slow drew near these blushing pads, transfixed with endless stare,
And saw a man of peerless worth, of heights beyond compare:
A hero chained, a lover lost, but of this world, apart,
Fickle reason drapes this age, yet constant was His heart.
With glory bright but honor bound, light wrinkles in its fold,
Away at last, a truth, divine, to separate the gold.
In hidden depths of shadows tread, I stretched a longing hand,
And whilst the crumbling pillars fall, I firmly took a stand.
From all around death waters poured, but in His presence dear,
A subtle refuge, safe abode, a streak against the fear.
Twas there, like weary travellers spent, I found a cove to rest,
And there, like salvaged heartbreaks, bent, I found myself so blessed
The days have flown, but still the thoughts, come seeping in my mind,
Of that sweet day when clarity I chanced upon to find,
Now when the tide turns ebony and when the fortunes shift,
I close my eyes and one by one let crimson petals drift.
- Patrick K. Chai