Like Alchemists

I dreamed a desert teeming dunes
Across its vast unvaried plain,
Parched below pale titan moons,
Unknown to snow, unknown to rain.

I camped beside a standing stone
That lurched far eastward in the dark,
That glaring moon as white as bone,
It rode the sky, a skull-faced ark.

And with a bit of flint and steel
I lit my feeble fire there,
This desert lost to all appeal,
This awful desert of despair.

For on that stone were carven runes
By peoples whom dark Fate had cast
To lost realms under savage moons
By wizards in some time lost past.

I saw her come from out the stone,
A girl as supple as a doe,
So deathly wan, and so alone,
With wine-sweet lips like to Bordeaux.

She kissed me when bright Vega clung
Above the spans that circle Mars,
And from me unmatched sorrow wrung,
Like alchemists distil attars.

Her smile so sweet and yet morose,
She took my hand as still the dunes
Glowed wanly as she held me close
Below that pale and titan moon.




Poetry by Achernar
Read 669 times
Written on 2009-10-15 at 17:10

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Rob Graber
Wow, very effective; and my hat is definitely off to you for attars/Mars!

PS: Does line 16 want "long past" (or "long Past")?
2009-10-15