If this turmoil should pass…

There’s an eclipse of pride and envy, 
both edged in a cursed darkness 
I hold my breath a moment, willing this to pass as wind through trees.
Before I’m left in shambles on my knees,
Let my frail thoughts dally in this false sunrise,
That you could see my vexes through glass. 
Both the exalted and the fallen, 
I dance between two wrongs, 
Insisting they’ll turn into rights 
When this eclipse is no longer within sight
Each pang of this faulty heart of mine
Peach bruises tart as wine,
Let me smile awhile,
For you in return,
Ignore this smokescreen,
I pray my eyes tell lies.
Only to conjecture my unsteady feet will refrain from making a mockery of this mountain,
And if I were to fall, 
May hermes sprout from my feet,
Though lo are these dreams.
This eclipse of pride and envy are frail at their seams,
Seems, I’m in need of a tailor.
Alas, friction enlarges the shirt 
If this shall pass,
Pray I am reformed anew,
Oh mournful twilight, 
How loudly you once spoke.
As if you no longer cared to speak,
To a dreadful sinner like me
Allow a reprieve,
One brief bitter bliss 
So I may morph before a new dawn 
And seal it with a kiss 
So I may sleep 
In this counterfeit,
And dream once more, 
With full knowledge, 
That I am passed all my wrongs.