Saturday, August 10, 2013

The epitaph of a Caesura






 Oh Monsieur! 
             How the ink does betray this once unvarnished expanse of uncompromised quietude, as I wend a wistful sangfroid into an arguably decadent mélange of mellow reminiscences! Some vague souvenirs of yesterdays, feasting upon a siesta beneath the generosities of a bruised elision… some decidedly frivolous, dallying with a scintilla of the notion of a possible unfurled self… some embracing a vermilion-hued triumph over an infidel ephemeron… and yet some others, scrupulously wheedling an acquaintance of their radical selves with an ounce of blemished immortality, borrowed from a slumbering tomorrow - All of these sweet-scented smidgens of an arguable yester-me, somehow glibly waltz away into a cadence of saccharine nothingness. A testimony indeed, to the recherché conspiracies of all those zillion tomorrows that were marred and wasted on their pilgrimage to the Lethe!! Alas…
                 But Oh! Did not herein, evince the serendipity of being owned by the wilderness of your amore, my Corsican raconteur?