Forlorn and white, Whorls of purity about a golden chalice, Immense the peonies Flare and shatter their petals over my face.
They slowly turn paler, They seem to be melting like blue-grey flakes of ice, Thin greyish shivers Fluctuating mid the dark green lance-thrust of the leaves.
Like snowballs tossed, Like soft white butterflies, The peonies poise in the twilight. And their narcotic insinuating perfume
Draws me into them Shivering with the coolness, Aching with the void. They kiss the blue chalice of my dreams
Like a gesture seen for an instant and then lost forever. Outwards the petals Thrust to embrace me, Pale daggers of coldness
Run through my aching breast. Outwards, still outwards, Till on the brink of twilight They swirl downwards silently,
Flurry of snow in the void. Outwards, still outwards, Till the blue walls are hidden, And in the blinding white radiance
Of a whirlpool of clouds, I awake. Like spraying rockets My peonies shower Their glories on the night.
Wavering perfumes, Drift about the garden; Shadows of the moonlight, Drift and ripple over the dew-gemmed leaves.
Soar, crash, and sparkle, Shoal of stars drifting Like silver fishes, Through the black sluggish boughs.
Towards the impossible, Towards the inaccessible, Towards the ultimate, Towards the silence,
Towards the eternal, These blossoms go. The peonies spring like rockets in the twilight, And out of them all I rise.
Cookies on Poetry Cove