The Glorious Dead? (Yet, in you, I see Matisse.)

I’m drawing closer to your motion

And falling deeper in the dark

There is this unpredictable energy

And a chaos contained in a frame.

That deafening stillness,

So deadly quiet.

Do you hear the silence echoing?

Do you feel horizon burning?

This is the burial by bitterness

A graveyard of wretched souls.

We do not lie in comfort here.

We will not sleep dreaming tonight.

Each time I look again,

You take a new position.

I can’t find your eyes in the darkness,

But you're there.

I know you're there.

I can feel your breath and the wind of your movements.

And your mystery continues to intrigue me;

Sends me into this wonderland of reds and browns.

You are profound,

But so vulgar,

And I am torn in fire contradictions,

Turning to ash amidst these images of hatred and desire.

Why do I see those figures

Swirling the edges of the frame?

The fresh green and bright blue is nowhere in sight.

But you still remind me of that dance I saw a time ago

The rhythm of that echo here, for me,

But yet you're darker

And much heavier and solemn in this dream.

And yet your gentle strokes still cradle me;

Water set aflame is still the water I see myself in.

I am in fear as I see my own reflection

because it reveals the truth I hide.