Neither Cold, Not either Warmth,
What sets me awake is the humid,
I cast the windows apart,
Waking to the morning break,
- The clear sky.
Nothing instilled but elven blight,
Today was the day to set sail again,
To reach, now, legions beyond – the fog, the mist -
Cryptic raven is now the Darkened Veil.
Should look the harbor anew?
Should be sung the ballads high?
Why are not fed the elven sails full?
And why lies low, the mystic rudder, under a spell?
Replies Reason;
“Master, the Lunar has been sailing idle days,
For it doesn’t lure the tidal nymph too near.”
Replies Eros,
“Pardon the difference sire,
It’s the Love not the Lunar that lacks,
Too much of the Sacred Ocean has been drunk,
Equal the teary grove in every warm bed.
The magic lost in love cannot put sail to your earthly lust,
What had to be put to sail is now aground held.”
No comments:
Post a Comment