It was an echo,
Lightly bouncing off the clouds,
A remote hum from the breaking of dawn.
Searing the hard frost
And mourning the doves’ low song.
A shadow’s reflection drifts in the tarn
Of shallow, cold truth.
Obscured loyalty and love,
He sought only the passage through the plains
With nothing but change.
He drank deep the bitterness,
And slept with the rage of waste and insult.
The thunder of flint,
Immersed in the blaze of rain,
He bathed in the rush of silence and shade.
In midst of the blind,
Near the smoldering towers,
There, he embraced the destroyed delusion.
Treading in the fault,
Yet, what he seeks is for naught,
Salvation wanes on steely comets’ tails.
Between the ice caps,
Through the arid waves of sands,
The echo trembles from the moons of lone.
He waits to exist,
To deliver – to submit.
Enduring the calm and to still languish
In the faint façade
Of grim devotion and grievance.
He resigned to the coarse belief of truth.
It was his – a loss,
A refracted view
Of what was forged to be in
That dim flutter of farewell.
Redemption he covets with bladed cost,
Through a bright nimbus of diamonds and dust.
*Note: This work of poetry was created as inspiration and development of a character (abbreviated here as E.C.) in my book I am working on!