Epiphany Of A Tale

I behold the soul, out of my reach,
lumbering in the solstice,
her mourn whelved within her heart,
as my mind respite,
in the sight of different shades of the night,
a ray of light kissing her cheeks,
and she in her latibule,
the aura of her soul is an aubade,
a glimpse of hiraeth,
cascading through her orbs, an ephemeral,
lambently raising her orphic nature,
my forelsket in a loop,
symbolizing the resplendent mangata,
a chimerical, yet a reality,
the thrum trickling my skin,
like zephyr near a cadaver,
the wings of my ataraxy, a parole,
fading along the descending sun,
her seraphic ardour caged within,
gently takes away,
the core of my soul as the tale begins……