Swept Idea

Beatitude whelmed is visiting my esteem,
to coincide with my remorse, and dream,
and there, as my unguarded pride rings,
another solitude to invent on lost sea links.

A shudder from the northern blow travels,
an antidote to my soul's solitude unravels
kills silent worlds where my failures hide
pushes my suspicion of a dim hope aside.

On dark roads my enthalpy is a dull emitter,
a fly in skies of a sole try, my altimeter,
your memory recounts, my fervor of cauma,
a knock on my tearing wound and trauma..

And still.. Today's dream is one more code,
that laughs as only one visitor will approach,
a wind carries last year in his cold embrace
my one attempt will wipe off, a sand trace.

The wind cries; it passes my soul's burden,
a message dim never read, call of a maiden,
that invites stranded souls of lost wars,
to wait on Heaven roads where ether soars.

A swept idea of a smile and another of tear,
her ghostly upwardly turned hands and stare,
guide my senses and my route towards tides,
where I felt her to wait for me inside Hades.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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