A Song for Unaccompanied Voice at Sunset

After the banality of the first post, I thought it would be nice to post the following prose piece, originally published in The Doppelganger Broadsheet (edited by Mr Colin Langeveld of West Derby, Liverpool, England) in 1997.

A sunset of topaz falls over forests bronzen and amberous with autumn; and in a grove, sacred with the ghosts of antique prayers, a poet, wrapped in a robe of hyacinthine velvet, stands before an altar of carven marble on which he has placed ebony grapes, saffron-hued fruits, and blossoms of exquisite fragrances and gemmed tints. A faun reclines nearby, hidden in the copper grasses, and listens as the poet recites to the rich eventide from an unfurled scroll.

Emerald and sapphire:
Forest and ocean.
Garnet and amethyst:
Dawn and eventide.

These are the bones,
The bones of my dreams.

Waves foam white,
Curdled pale jewels.
Woods sigh solemnly,
Breath as incense.

These are the bones,
The bones of my dreams.

Rain of garnet,
Dawn on woods.
Sky of almandine,
Adorned with dusk.

These are the bones,
The bones of my dreams.

Emerald and sapphire:
Forest and ocean.
Garnet and amethyst:
Dawn and eventide.

The poet finishes his recitation and places the parchment upon the altar amongst his other offerings: the grapes of ebony, the fruits of saffron, the blossoms of exquisite fragrances and gemmed tints.

"Accept this, O God," he whispers to the slowly darkening air of topaz, "my libation of words for your horned ears and your olivine eyes swimming with the jade and chrysoberyl fires of the woods."

"The jewels drip from his tongue: he is the Orpheus of Poets," sighs the faun, amorous-eyed and swooning with awe amongst the grasses that are copper with autumn.