Daffodil Lament

                    I dream
                  of a field
                 of daffodils,
              and a waveless mirror
                   of water
                 in its midst.

                  Of a visage
               of my resemblance
            wondering with my eyes.

             Of the unending void
               of this universe
              seeded with holes;
              of the cold petals
              of countless stars,
           and the gravity of souls.

                   I dream
            of their seeds of black
                 taking root;
                and their blood
                  of violet
                birthing fruit -

             with coagulated wings
                   of velvet
                 taking flight,
                 and the river
               of spilt darkness
                 upon my sight.

                    I dream
                 of a pavilion
              of purple papillons;
               of their embrace
                    of mock
              deafening the world.

                  Of a visage
              of her resemblance
            laughing with her eyes.

              Of the lilac threads
                lulling on backs
               of fleeing drakes;
                   of my Echo
                  giving chase
             after Narcissa's wake.

             I dream of fiery vines
                  entangling me,
                 pulling me down,
                and of Wordsworth
                  and his grin
               from atop his cloud.

                   Of the bile,
            numbing my limbs and mind;
                 breaking my bones.
                     I dream
                 of a graveyard
               of golden tombstones.