In presence of a dusk-lit haunting
A breakpoint, a secret vaulting,
Encasing the past of your virtuous haste.
A ballast of an endangered soul
Drinks from the flask sought by the old;
A fountain of youth for those lost that can’t wait.
Travestied remains, left without goal,
Deeper into the veins; the polymnia of this canticle
Emanates of your infectious consummate.
©2003, Joseph Jenkins
Note: Some of the vocabulary in here is a little… odd, I know. Hell, I even looked up some of the words a second time to make sure I wasn’t just throwing words around. The power is in these words and enhance the depth of it’s meaning. A hint, the name of this poem could also be read as “Inner War/Conflict” Enjoy. – Joe
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