Verse Macabre by Dekklun Cuinn
The oozing mist of a gothic evening
Spreads finger-like its crawl
Across the skeletal gray foliage and the sun-starved sky,
Lapping its tongue against the cold decaying roots
Of a cancerous earth in total stillness.
The night rolls on ominous wheels of a dark enchantment
Descending as it falls, thick as blood,
Into the pits of a hollow burning ether of emptiness.
The dead lie still within the ground
Voiceless and senseless as the moon’s increasing shadow,
Dreaming what the night tries so desperately to hide.
But you and I, beloved, have found it.
You and I have removed the veils from our eyes.
We can see what the body hungers for
Here beneath the ruinous fog and magical shine of moonlight.
For you and I, unlike the living unlike the dead,
Delight in a blasphemous carnage:
To sink teeth into the delicate sweet meat of pleasure,
Enjoining spirit with body, pagany and sainthood,
Depriving our souls of neither heaven nor hell—
Two ghosts with an appetite for fire
And a lust for the ultimate in dying:
To fill our veins with eternal dreams,
Our blood with eternal life.
Spreads finger-like its crawl
Across the skeletal gray foliage and the sun-starved sky,
Lapping its tongue against the cold decaying roots
Of a cancerous earth in total stillness.
The night rolls on ominous wheels of a dark enchantment
Descending as it falls, thick as blood,
Into the pits of a hollow burning ether of emptiness.
The dead lie still within the ground
Voiceless and senseless as the moon’s increasing shadow,
Dreaming what the night tries so desperately to hide.
But you and I, beloved, have found it.
You and I have removed the veils from our eyes.
We can see what the body hungers for
Here beneath the ruinous fog and magical shine of moonlight.
For you and I, unlike the living unlike the dead,
Delight in a blasphemous carnage:
To sink teeth into the delicate sweet meat of pleasure,
Enjoining spirit with body, pagany and sainthood,
Depriving our souls of neither heaven nor hell—
Two ghosts with an appetite for fire
And a lust for the ultimate in dying:
To fill our veins with eternal dreams,
Our blood with eternal life.
Dekklun Cuinn © 2011
Pieter Claesz 1628