Morning glory

Who was the scandalous figure In sacred hiding Clad in pure black Clay yet to set Boorish in disposition Tantalizing before the main course They strike— A pair of choreomanic vipers Invited to the ballroom But alas, the target Was never there For it was myself Battling my own shadow Just another Fruitless kamikaze I stood mosaic and colorful in Van Gogh painting candescence in effervescence a flicker in the roaring gloom The epilogue I tell the history As if it were a fable Around a succinct campfire Laughter, quite saccharine My scorching blade Stirred the next awakening— Justice To entice A dusk foreshadowing Morning glory