The moonlight hummed a minor sonata
Its melody hung on minims and strings
His mind churned in a sea of folly
Riding on the waves of melancholy
Sunk back in weariness his temple throbbed
In a chorus of chaos the voices squawked
Within his chapel there rested no soul
In its tumult there was no whole

An arrow hung loosely on a cupid's bow
He loosened his grip and lost that shot
It fell through the sky and twirled in good sport
Through two hearts it found its spot
It fed on emotions that sprouted and flourished
Across the season of greens and blooms
Brown leaves scattered in icy winds
It rusted and crumbled and lost its hold

Beneath a ceiling cemented and cold
He lay in bed barren and old
A scroll of memories flashed in an instant
He pushed them aside and sighed in surrender
...
In the distant darkness a faint light beckons
His bowed beaten figure fades into dimness

[Written July 30, 2006]