Dour Genesis

What pageantry of prosperous plumes
withered in the dark dirges of deepest grief
as two titans bear the lifeless dawn
of their failed legacy’s future
while their precious blood gems
lay in their final clutch of fatal parting.

But it’s the somber solo of a mourner’s dull throb
hidden in eyes beset by their loss of luster
that bleeds the light from their minds
for now they are hollow and devoid of dreams,
hemorrhaging in their heart’s rivulet of silent sorrow
flowing through the atmosphere in a grimaced grasp.

If love could have only held onto life’s tether
if this moment wasn’t ashen to the face,
it could have denied the dour dawn of fury’s heritage
where embittered souls dance around verbal clashes.

By two hands did the dueling lives
offer oblation unto the fissures of ancestral trail,
yet their lips stay mute to pool that swelled inside
the ageless rage that wouldn’t die
though the price of virgin sacrifice was shed
and its cruel quake struck within the chest.

Overtones of night shroud bequeath a solemn essence
amid the lost of every throb and precious profit
wherein the lie as tombs in the mind,
tombs of lament to never be sealed.

Oh maudlin tragic of pathos poignant presence
stripped of their feathered hopes,
now mere shells of spirits dimmed in flame,
illumination surrendered to the eves
spent relieving every act ending in despair.
eternally living each twilight in a flashback hades.

In the aftermath of formality
they will endure the dour dawns
lips bitten to smother the sobs,
rising to walk a zombie of blessing
buried in a child’s grave.