A Poem a Day to Millennium
6 September 1999
POET'S HELL 

Peace not alone, 
but life destroying, 
pleasures that time 
regrets, 
My thoughts flee 
before the wind, 
My senses put out 
by all which seeks 
the pleasure, 
Was she happy, too? 

In the flames of 
delusion we worship, 
Silent as fish acreep 
in the sea, 
Damp rocks by the ocean's blasted 
shore. 
Your spear is my 
lamp, 
And all fishermen 
drown in beautiful 
bays. 

What scattered the 
warmth over the 
shocking day, 
Made also the dew 
sweet to the thirsty 
teeth. 
In these cold hours 
smell the wings 
of flowers, 
The land is light 
under the freshest 
air, 
Where even the wind 
has wings. 
My pain is as sweet 
as the bitter bite 
of medicine, 
A drink worth sailing
to the moon for, 
To live or die under 
the stars of shamans, 
in these elements 
both are serene, 
And no Spirit arrives 
by golden chariot! 

Tonight I see the ocean is flying, 
Its wings are 
spirit-wide and 
spirit-bright, 
A way to see the 
tides are but 
turnings, 
In the Eternal Flight 
of water. 
What weakens also 
disturbs, 
Thus my thoughts! 
Speak not I dare, 
Heart faint, 
My in! 

What enchants my 
heart is silent, 
Ears overflowing 
in the depths of 
solitude, 
Alone in the chambers 
on my in-most peace, 
I see one very lovely 
bird, 
Making one very 
lovely nest, 
On the ocean. 
Here, 
In this ocean nest, 
One purple egg, 
hovers, 
And the sun, moon, 
and earth, 
And all the stars 
are waiting... 

Thrones of demons! 
Beware of angels! 
Past and Future!!! 
This time is our 
own, 
Alone I live all 
passions, 
Un-tamed in the 
inward spiral, 
Only Fancy claims 
me, 
In the Treasure 
Rooms of my Memories! 
But more! More! 
All that is absent! 

Better an arrow 
in my brow, 
Than the wrong hand 
upon my heart! 
No matter how 
gentle, how soft, 
Haunted echoes from 
the hills of hell, 
Return to my own 
outwaiting hands, 
Like dead sparrows! 

 - Michael Eliseuson

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