Synaptic storms tear through tortured memories,
swathed in billowing blasts of color,
ermine nightmares enveloping imperial dreams under diamond sprinkled indigo fields,
bidding adieu to the dusk.
Raw rubicund ambition pulsing uncontrolled;
screaming crimson clad spirits coursing through visceral burrows
on undefined missions, as today fades into yesterday,
dreaming of tomorrow.
Queen Leander on her dark thrown trying to remember her birth rhyme,
the one written for her so long ago,
the one spelled in shades of darkest black
by a me then so young,
Lost but not forgotten when a younger world
seethed and fumed at wrongs, imagined and real,
tempests wrapped in warped storms training for future pasts,
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2011; all rights reserved