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Tuesday, May 9, 2017


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  

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