Consumed.

Isle of salvation, quench our barren
throats,
we watched as mercifully you
upon the far horizon came, and
felt the fruits teasing our souls
before stone eloped with sand.

I sought the mercy swift -
to all I'd be the saviour.

I pledged against temptation,
vanity or lust - for my soul was
in the hands of another hundred
souls, one hundred souls
expectant.

Though bracelets of the
Narcissi

Hylas and the Nymphs - John William Waterhouse

upon my wrists were bound.

The hopeful waters mirrored
the candles of the
almighty lamp - hanging
low in a setting sky,
possessing still a strength
and stubborn fortitude.

Littered was the iris, in
patterns unassembled,

my image in the pond
a grace ethereal -

Long tresses came to meet it,
mirroring the rushes,
yet faces of a beauty
the rush shall not possess,
not for all the jewels
of royalties.

All they stared,
eyes azures,
emeralds
and maroons,

seven - as the stars of damozels -
staring from life's well,
I let them guide
me forth,
into their tempting
depths
to drown within their
charms.

While all about the
willows
crescendo-ed ceaseless
cry

while all did weep my
passing

the waterlily hid


the truth,


the secrecy.



© Cecil Field