Glowing Decay

Soft burning ember, don’t gray and whiten.
Blush if you must, but last to quell my lust
For visions emerging naked behind
Silk drapery of chaos, charcoal and dust.

Reddened thinker of wandering musings,
What do you tell in your sinuous tracings?
A dance, an impenetrable tango,
Or do you write in silver and ivory
The ether, in a twirling tongue your own?
Do you whisper history repeating its twirls?
Do you paint without foreseeing,
Never knowing the next turn?
Tell of madness, mental swirls,
or do you summon divining spirits,
for the soul to inhale?

A puff and a lie,
A lie and a puff.
The gray ghost of inspiration pervades
The caverns of living, whimpers and sighs.
A graying redhead ages,
A billowing illusion emerges;
Its thinning threads glisten, then fade,
Leaving behind a memory and a scent,
A presence extinguished and spent.
So arresting a pleasure
The ephemeral inebriation,
Shamanic rite;
Are these godly peaks?
Or a fleeting dream
Dissolving away,
An ashen stain
of formless soot
and fetid dust?