A note: I've had to re-format this poem since fictionpress doesn't exactly lend itself to structured poetry. Each line that's in brackets is supposed to be arranged in a separate stanza alongside the other lines, and read independently. So to appreciate the intended flow of the poem, I'd suggest reading lines 1, 3, etc, together, and then going back to read lines 2, 4,... etc. This is only until the line "plummeting from the mountain-tops". If you're curious to see the poem in its intended format, please visit aa-Moss on deviantART (dot com) and check out 'Ataraxis'. (I'd post a link, but apparently it's not letting me do that either) ..I assure you it's a much more interesting read that way. :B I'd appreciate it. Thanks.

Oh, fair tranquility,
(Oh, savage deception)
How predictably your dream-face flourishes
(how cleverly you lift me and how,)
waltzes in and amongst my subliminal garden,
(with such grace to parallel any eagle's)
shifts the stones of my slumbering ambitions
(you swathe me in your honey-scented folds)
closer to the edge, and gradually sends them
(kiss my forehead and sweetly send me)

plummeting from the moutain-tops.

You two, my black and white,
my rich, my poor
-- but which is which, I do not know--
sustain me with your gentle grace
your harsh, unjustified embrace

and tastes so sweet and sour that, suckling,
I cannot tell which one is ours.

The perfume of your soft and simple song,
your contralto and your stunning harmony
has somehow fouled, somehow lost key --
has lost its reason, and so has left me wanting
(but still, interminably flaunting)
that which will never belong to me.