It’s a Breath, even a Heartbeat

Spirit portraits sprinkle my memories. Thus I nestle with
Visions. And there’s something depth the cave. It’s a breath,
Even a heartbeat. My delight: the reality of passion: words
Flung against the psyche. And shattered antiques, rest upon
The mantelpiece. They hymn the spiritual militia, unto
Euphoric nightmares. But such glory, the death of martyrs;
Such courage; such infusion. And I dare approach madness:
A lantern flickering within the soul. It recedes into a conclave,
And I perish to catch her. My passion, featured in allegories.
But I speak of love, a midnight kiss, the myth of spirit. Such
Repute, my dying love. It’s a breath, even a heartbeat. It
Terrifies the essence; it shadows the sun. It’s the hint of an
Eyelash, batting at the moon. But promise, a spoken word.
Even a portfolio of dreams. Or a diary of prayers.