AN APART FALLING WALL

AN APART, FALLING WALL

The sun is turning to set
my mind feels like an apart, falling wall.
November
in all its misty grayness
engraves sadness in the heart.
I feel like an old legionnaire
like Kirk
at the bridge of an Enterprise
in stellar drift.
I have the feeling of déjà-vu
as I delude myself into absorbing
all the heinousness of the universe.
The anguish of all humanity
surrounds me
and I raise a prayer to you
Virgin Mother
in this my
earthly hermitage
please grant me the strength of sorrow.
The hail
in the budding night
has frozen the soul
in a labyrinth of stalactites.
I wish you were here
to melt its ice.
Gone are your lips
your smile
fiery
glowing
at that time gone
multicolored
lukewarm
boiling
with love.
The sun turns to set
and the silence
has reawakened in my heart
an anguish that was lurking there
suddenly
ready to resurface.
The weeping melts away
like snow in the sun
and is lost
among the shadows that besiege
the soul.
With each scanned second
I insult the desert of my clichés
and attempt to recreate a homeostasis
with that God in whom I believe.
Nowhere
except in my torment
I revisit my Mount Tabor
and as a helpless knave
I yearn for a swift showdown.
The stars capture me
in the spasmodic stillness of my fantasies
in the lacerating utopias that merge
with the first flashes of dawn
as I raise a psalm of love
named after your name
and your face
your smile
your caresses
are a galactic storm
ravaging the recesses of my heart
of my memories.
Love.
Every effort is futile
I cannot disintegrate
this yearning of mine
and in the torment, I feel
my only reality.
I cannot detach myself
from this bitter-sweet anxiety
and I fear
that the new day
premature blooms bright
cruel joyous 
lacerating.