The HyperTexts

Adam Sedia

Adam Sedia (b. 1984) is a poet, author, essayist and composer. His poems, essays, and stories have appeared in The Chained Muse Review, Indiana Voice Journal, Tulip Tree Review, and other publications, and he has published three volumes of poetry: The Spring's Autumn (2013), Inquietude (2016), and Visions Beyond (2018). His music can be heard on his YouTube channel. He lives in his native Northwest Indiana with his wife, Ivana, and their children, where he practices law as a civil litigator and municipal attorney.



The Chrysanthemums

When torrid Summer’s greenery,
Its vibrant hues and spiced perfume
Lie far, fast-fading memory,
Your flowers bloom.

When all the world around you fades,
Dries up, and withers, seeing death
Approach in night’s increasing shades,
You breathe sweet breath.

When long, dark Winter’s icy blast,
Whose hints fly in the breezes’ chill,
Inevitably nears at last —
You flourish still.

Your colors, rather than exclaim
Like childish March or vain July,
Burn bold with shades of earth and flame
So modestly.

You brighten up a world that dies,
Reminding you what soon must be.
Your fate surrounds you: therein lies
Your tragedy.

And thus I love you most: despite
The futile lateness of your prime,
You dare to thrive in dying light
And shine sublime.



Half Moon

Why let just one side
Of your visage bask
In a silver glow,
Not daring to show
What the opaque mask
Of the shadows hides?

You, it seems, behave
In too-human ways,
With a beaming face
Of dissembling grace
And, where no eyes gaze,
A secret enclave.



To West

Too long, too long, my love,
Have we tarried here.
Too long, too long, my love,
Has our languid cheer
  Kept us sprawled in cooling shade,
  Clasping our two bosoms near,
  Never noticing morn’s youthful brilliance fade.

The sun, the sun, my love,
Plunges to the West.
The sun, the sun, my love,
Knows no pause or rest.
  I know well you’ll deeply miss,
  As I, these hours we were blessed.
  But time enough we’ll have to reminisce.

Do you not see, my love,
How the sky glows red?
Do you not see, my love,
That the day is dead?
  To the west, fly! Chase the light
  Before the sun's last ray is shed,
  Or be engulfed by cold, chaotic Night!



Rising Steam

Gossamer, pellucid wisps
Rise dreamlike —  sprites whose caprice
Curls, twirls in serpentine twists
To dissipate in the freeze.

From warmth into lifeless cold,
From sight into memory,
From being to realms untold,
Dissolving eternally —

Yet rising as they dissolve,
Daring to dance as they rise:
Their weird gyres entwine, revolve
Into a fête for the skies.

Will this not vanish as they?
Then, like them, may I ascend,
Dancing gaily on my way
To my unseeable end!



Waves

Turquoise waves on shell-white sand
Rise, fall —  crashing, crashing, crashing —
Dying gladly as they land,
Surging, breaking, foaming, splashing.

Lines advancing, rank on rank —
Never ceasing or deceasing —
On the anchored rock’s long flank,
Neither tiring nor decreasing.

Soft, serene their rhythm sounds —
Slowly lulling, lulling, lulling —
Steady, steady, till it drowns
All but one thought in its pulling:

Awe at eons glimpsed as one,
Wave on wave on wave forever.
Can the world they overrun
Curb them? Never, never, never!



The Nebula

When my time has come
And helium
  Weighs down on my exhausted core,
Spent from shedding light
Through the endless night
  Until the fuel can last no more,

Let my light not fade
Nor my mass degrade,
  Into a dwarf-star, cold and dim;
Nor may I collapse
In a depth that traps
  All mass, all light to cross its rim.

No!  Let my demise
Light up the skies,
  An awesome supernova burst —
My last energy
Exploding free
  To fly among the stars, dispersed;

And to leave behind
A wondrous sign,
  A vast galactic cloud that beams
Opalescent hues
Of bright aqua blues,
  Magentas, reds in wisps and streams.

Untold worlds shall know
When they glimpse the glow
  Of that ethereal monument
How a star once shone
That, although long-gone,
  Forever decks the firmament.

The HyperTexts