December
winds lay me to rest tonight,
I’ll stray from the path that saves the rest tonight.
Feel these veins shrivel up, all blood has dried.
A shell or a husk, I fail a test tonight.
Feel these veins shrivel up, all blood has dried.
A shell or a husk, I fail a test tonight.
The mountains are my monuments, the seas my shrines,
Open fields are the coffins on which I’ll invest tonight.
Unleash the
darkest of shadows upon my Earth;
A light on my sorrows is what I protest tonight.
Each scar is
a scab waiting in line to be picked apart,
This, Lune, is not where I wish to rest tonight.
This, Lune, is not where I wish to rest tonight.
I like how the poet personal already sees his scars as scabs he'll have to pick later. Connecting this with the previous line where he is protesting a light on his sorrows, It seems you've created this complex poet persona who doesn't want/ dreads to begin the healing process of both his physical and emotional trauma.
ReplyDeletepoet persona*
DeleteWell there's definitely a sense of defeat, almost faithlessness when the Faun wishes to act upon his plans. But yes, there's deeper reading that can be done on that what the Faun doesn't wish to express, or expresses to keep away from sight.
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