So she stayed there
Locked to a presence
That had long since faded
She sat lonely at the window
Sighing deeply to herself
Unable to find within
Momentum to change without
“But that was fate.”
She told herself
Repeating the words
In a trance
Until the tears began
And presence was indeed felt
Letters in her name were written
Softly in his hand
Two times he wrote them out
One for each their dearest pocket.
– Could it symbolize their path?
Sequestration of thy heart –
To each thy moon
Held, succumb’d to fate
Was at thee other’s
Though seasons matched,
Caused the ocean
– Seasoned seas could not forgive
Even as thy beggar holds –
Placed into canals
Where roses floated softly
Sat thoughts burgeoning
As if memory’s remains
Were fertile soil
To plant new clippings
Dancing through the Kingdom of Joy
Alone, the rupture had a sentence
A package of unexpected buoyancy
Laid about thy path.
Oh, shame shame the clouds have come
Accept thy fate and look back no more
Forgive each breath you once deplored
Let run deep thy river’s mane.
Stepping aside, a willow tree
Called thy name twice in vain
But on the third day, as time began
A shift in conscience pulled at thee.
Then with a rod of sixfold and reel
Twang at last, the pauper’s gold
Gifting all that had been told
Left alone in a field of wildflowers.
At my shadow –
Cast upon the wall,
This silent story
The backseat of a
Four horse pulled carriage.
Creaking springs and
Left the night full of content.
But I, macabre,
No companion at my side.
Yet lightly had I begun my way
When I recognized my fate:
My future was –
Not within my luggage close,
But upon my back,
Mine own enemy,
One thousand names
I shall speak of nevermore.
Wisdom is an empty sea
And I have gone too far.
I lost my rope, my sign, my star
To keep me mind at ease.
But in this dream my mind was free!
Not holding on as tar,
A flow that never was thy scar.
For if the heart pulls back to flee
The soul knows: nevermore,
Which leaves a man in misery –
A fate no soul should score.
So which of you are ready for:
The lad with eyes of mystery,
Or a maiden waiting at sea’s shore?
I don’t want to hold hands with fate anymore,
I don’t want to believe there’s a right way,
Or that I have a significant impact on worth,
On death, or the elusive act thereof.
With whom shall I grow old with,
If I am not planning it out?
With what shall I enjoy, if gamblers
Keep convincing me I’m right.
Share my soul with wounded hearts!
Hardly healthy and needing.
Share my aches amongst the rocks!
Already scalded sourly
For I am no man fit for redemption,
I am no guest at the gates of fate
And I have brought no gifts for my maker.
I tempted my fate,
Believing in my firm footsteps
That wiggled and diggled
And figgled and biggled.
To where was my answer,
To whom was an impulse.
To lie by my lover,
To step foot in her hearth
That lay idle; upon
Yet so astray.
For merry was my wish
To Blondy and her fish,
Merry was an inheritance
That clothed itself in
100 year old furs
And danced around with glitter
To the steady beat
Of my leather soles
As I walked on further
Towards my fate
And an undying appreciation
Of the biggleding and figgleding.
When you whisper my name a thousand miles away
A little fairy floats from you on to me
With a gift wrapped in satin, sewn with my name.
Moments keep building through conquest and torture,
With every gamble perching icicles upon our brows
That tickle and fancy and etch out our fate.
My deepened breath at the sight of your fairy
Keep me awake, for no thought should go wasted;
No lingering memory or heart pitter-patter missed.
Just like my serpent, I’m alive with no name,
All else flickers and slithers; lost into bane.
‘Goes here with my fairy, a thousand miles away.