Eye of Nemes

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 Nextars “Anubis”

Clinging to the severed air
Each riddled breath a little death;
Whoever dared before me tread
Appeared to have no better fared.
The dead of night
Bled bare the sky—
And there was I
No slight declared;
Yet, felt aware precisely where
The sands of Pharaoh wed to tide.

Had my visage undressed mirage,
Then, by and large, my weathered mast
Would never pass the eye of storm;
Less tethered to unfettered form.
The callous winds forewarned fierce bluster;
Still my sight denied no lustre—
Mustered every ounce of flounce
Announced myself the house conductor.

In luminescent heiroglyphs
The monoliths were painted;
My narrowed lids then widened
Prized of ancients reacquainted.
The tainted heart beneath my breast
Embosomed pleasure—Better yet,
Felt treasured in its rusted cage
Both fair of hue and runed of mage.

The sage advice of elders felled
Prepared me well to live to tell
The riddled breaths of little deaths
From cleft address
Cursed worth expelled.
The dead of night
Bled bare the sky—
And there was I
Of fair delight declared;
Felt aware precisely where
The sands of Pharaoh wed to tide.
Clinging to caress of Eye of Nemes—
Redefined.

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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