Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Fragments of a Scene

Running water could be heard inside the foyer of the house
Up the twisting stair case going upwards into the Heavens
The magnificent curtains conceal the light, the room, the future
The scent of incense posses the room and seeps through my very soul

On the davenport the items await for me
The deck of cards on the right side
The runes on the left
The crystal globe in the center
A blank piece of paper, pot of ink by it and a dip pen

My leather gloves I take off
The candles I set alight
The mirror emulates the flame
The pearl rosary beads huddled together  
A cutlass upon the embroidered rug
I put down my peppermint leaf tea

The cards I place in a celtic cross
They fall into place
I turn the cards around
See what is my destiny. 
The moon, the world, high priestess,
The lovers reversed, The Chariot  
Then in a diagonal line right next to them
The queen of wands, strength, the magician, the star
The rune I pick out is the Perth; mystery

I light the candle.
The flame ascends up
the wax drips onto the paper.
I feel like my body is burning at the stake,
but indeed I am not I am waltzing in a ballroom,
in the arms of manly figure –  in a tight embrace 

I drink my tea witness the transformation
of the leaves from one shape to another
and then the grand finally.   
His onyx eyes are upon my diamond features
I see myself upon a stage
in a flash I see myself preform Juliet
then in a blur I am Sybil, then metamorphoses into Mina
He in seated in the Lord’s room at The Globe
He is able to audre my dialogue, voice, pause.
He wears a waistcoat and a top hat.

I write meaningless words
creating beautiful art by
my own divine hand
Snapdragon flowers he gives to me
Exquisite and exotic they look, he says, they look just like me
Everything goes black
My heart drums hard
Then out the darkness images of a majestic estate,
a lush garden, a table set, a fireplace
a corridor, a bedroom race across my sign.
His wine coloured lips contrasted against my opal ones.
He infects with fever to undress.
We fall into the well of love.

My palm I open
follow the estuaries
along my hand
with my finger tip
The headline softly marked
Life line a single line
Heart line hard to trace
The Faith line present on both my palms. 

The cutlass I sweep along
my colombino hand
the cardinal blood drips
Another century. Another me.
I am a lover of words. Logophile disease.
Those same onyx eyes and wine lips
He has a Glamorous scent and a novel voice
A passion for dancing, a passion for life
A free spirit in an oppressive world
Dressed in jeans, a loose T-shirt, a wistful smile.
He is in love with her, her words, her cherub soul,
enticing voice, the power she posses.  

The candle blaze reflected in the mirror
Two lively spirits that are destined to end up together
Only he can light my heart up like he does, make my skin break out in flames
Just thinking about his touch flares up me up
The love and desire is raw and my flesh is awaiting for his magnetic touch
We are enchanted not like out of fairy tales, but in real life.
Our very fibers are interlinked. We are woven together since the dawn of time.
He don’t just speechlessly understand the philosophy of my heart, but my soul, the very core of my being.
He make me feel alive every day that I spent with you.
How can our love not be all mighty?

By Elena Kokonova
Hoped you enjoyed reading. Feedback is welcome. :)

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