The Seraph With Blackened Wings

[TranquillityBase]

A black but intricate design
is woven into the seraph's wings.


He is an archangel gracing my bed
but when I gaze upon the face           his
of the man
I find that reality no longer
and that there is no dark seraph
at all in my presence
and so I,
with weary heart
roll over onto my side
and close both heavy,
ever dimming eyes
and I fall into the depths
of a planted fantasy,                           not sure what a planted fantasy is?
as one falls into the depths of hell     
and I feel the deepest feelings
as one would feel in hell
but on the opposite end of the spectrum,
ecstasy,
until I am stirred from my slumber
where I groan
because the dark seraph is elsewhere.


Oh, angel that has graced my presence,
the crux of my existence,
the bringer of light
with your wings as black as night,
I sit on my knees
in my very sleep
and I beg for your red but silken eyes
to rise
to mine
in a place that is not a planted fantasy,
in a place that is not a planted fantasy,
but instead, reality
because you have fled into the hills
and have brought my home,
my Rome,
with you
but I am not there.
I am here.


I am not.            I don't get how this last line relates

I like it, maybe the best one I've read in terms of getting right to the point.  I hope you aren't really going to quit in a month.  You will learn a lot if you hang around long enough.  Not from me, but from folks like Knot et al.  What's the hurry, you got a train to catch?