The forests were fenced in by houses and industry, by
commerce encircling
Like the walls of a prison
The forests in the city were relics, a museum pieces, growing
in their ancient place
Where the forest has always been,
like an alien
The forests was perpetually new, they was green and slender,
the old growth was excised
Like a tumor
Making way for the tender branching of youth
I walked beneath the verdant canopy, hidden in the greening
leaves, questing for a vision
The beast
of old king Pellinor
I was as wet as new born child, enveloped in the clinging
dew of morning, searching
For the
meaning of my birth
I shimmered in the sunlight, refracting in the dew drops, my
body’s water
Splintered into rainbows, bursting
The radiant fountain rising in the morning
I climbed to the top of monuments, marble giants, still and
silent, cradled in their arms
I wept with earthbound angels
I dreamt of death in the evening, of the dark and buried
kingdom, of slipping into shadow
As certain as the retreating tide
I wandered without purpose, lost in the moment, in the
freedom of madness
Blind as Lancelot
Following the waves to the opposite shore
True love endures all things, or so the Apostle said, the
grief of the unknown, or the loss
Of what might have been
Pain is not penitential, but love is, and the penance of loving,
its agony is restorative
The grail is the return to life
There is no life without love, or the loss of it, we are
dust in the shadows
Sparkling in the light
