Amore Mortis

Amore Mortis

To play in clouds of tingling sparks,
and lose distinction from all and thyself.
To be enthralled with a' void that engulfs.
A calm that erupts,
where amore is enough.

WHo reigns this shroud of quickening dark?
Is faster still than lightning, depart!
For there is no-one here to thwart.
No life to mar,
but death-- 'tis art.