The Euphony of War Again and again, Swords of melody sing, and chant Such celestial noise bound in metal clash, bitter, And in that steady moderato of the notes, painted in shades of red; crimson, and gold, maybe, With the pride of such gushing scarlet and The shame of such superlative emerald, I find you lone, Because the spears and the swords paint my eyes – Round and around you spin, endless but last, with such Silvery flicker, that bounce off my sword, breaking the light, and I wonder: it’s To love and to die, isn’t it – And to rise; but not only rise, no, but to fall, Fade into the sunset. How do you tear the sunlight so – Or is that the solitude of the moon in your tears? Touch my tears with your lips, Touch my war with your fingertips, And save, save the glorious sunset; Save them, save them and I must be left, behind, In the solitude of the moon, that glistens Under the glamour of your portrait; serpentine green and wispy silver, that Dance and sing, endless but final; In such celestial hum Of that incarnadine sketch you shed, In faultless rhythm with your face, and the moon, And the silver slithering Snake; For the Phoenix shall fall, But not only fall, no, he must also rise, Rise into the sunset.