[Dandeli]

This life, once my own,                                              

                                       This heart once found itself without a home,

Adrift on the briny sea, vessel destined to sink with no eulogy,                        

               But on the way toward sea's brink, I found some things before destined sink,      

A few treasures across the course, of which weighted my vessel and slowed it's course,

She, who found this lost heart, and gave it a means to tie itself to present day.

     

  

Yet promises did not tether it so firmly that it would avoid ill-advised foray,

For she who delved into ocean deep did follow that heart's whim true,                        

                                   Absconding from her wayward brethren to chase desire's rue,

Each sorrow I feel is cold and steep like wintry snow and sleet,                    

            Each heart's pulse and frost-borne fire threatens to drag me deep,

     

  

       And thus, accept I shall, this life is not quite my own,                   

   In need of an anchor, so that those I love are at day's end the last sight stowed,

This set of two lungs still within me breathing for hearth and home,                                

                      For their love, by their decree. For her love, by her decree.

I will give this life, the one you so own,                        

                In life first, until death last.

      

 

  

Winter's breath preserve me,                                    

So I can reach kind Spring.           

                                       A thousand promises sing,

                    To which I owe in life.

   

Farewell, yesteryear's strife.

 

[Dandeli]

  
O' Commander, O' Commander, steering through bleakest frost,                     

          Fervent ardor flavoured night's cold chill, burning zeal sailing aloft,

         In a wearied trek through snow-clad plains, you would steer the world to conform,

In the silent, frozen world, never did you veer from chosen path, be it warm or forlorn,             
   

  

Staying true to all you were in body and spirit, staying true to every fervid breath,               

                            It is with a cold sullenness I confess, oft does it send me into duress,

That I will always pale next to your worst, and remain miles adrift from your best,                    

               Threads were frayed, the days grew further apart, and t'was soon I stopped visiting your nest,
 

 

                 Left I am with this sunken shape of a shadow, a final confrontation 'neath the bloodied moon,                  

                                               Shaking limbs, weary breath, your heart spent - all of it given, not a drop left,

So now I pray quietly that you may yet be at rest, even if it forces me to quietly recognise..                  

                .. I was too late, forced to wander with this weary guilt, neverendingly spiralling clockwise.

 

  

"If you die, I die."

Words said, but at what cost?

Too late to take them back, now all is lost.

[Dandeli]

 Winter, 2113AC

Back then you whistled an odd melody; a charming song of truths perceived false,

With a red-eyed glare you reminded me you were no liar, and a story found itself writ,

With shaky breaths I saw a fluorescent end, a thousand horned faces staring me down,

And then I plunged the final dagger deep - and down, oh so down, did I tumble off!

     

Wood was deep, and the voices did chide; 'eat, eat, eat, find me a feast this night.'

Brazen did I leap, and through mist and sleet did I seek the greatest bounty of all,

Tousled soon in grass, looking up to the faraway moon, I remembered - I was myself,

Lost, somewhere afar. And then I forgot, until your star-lit hand saw me renewed anew!

      

The raven-haired man anointed himself with the mantle of hero, and thus did I join him,

For this heart adjured for nothing more - a desire to have a fate once writ among the stars,

Deny those that would deny the dream, my thirdmost desire taking root at his side,

On the charred path did I lose sight, my hand in his clutch, a plea resounding: 'do not die now!'

     

A thousand eyes careened down from the sky in one foul swoop, blood sought from the traveller,

I, wayfarer one, plucked from the brazen path, forced to roll over in my gore and pouring snot,

'A ransom' did you chime, and so I beguiled your wish: 'my first enemy' and 'my damned nemesis,'

And then they came running to save me anyway, despite the secret I held in my worn out hands!
     
The friend damned,
The lover distraught,
The friend sacrificed,
The mentor acceptant,
The abstaining hand cold,
reaching
out
then
to
wring
your warm
Heart - you idiot!

      

Voices sung in the mind, a false prophet professed that word was a way of wresting fate into grasp,

Voices sung in the mind, the red-eyed voice professing betrayers breathe in all four cardinal corners,

Voices sing in annals past: 'what are you on about?', 'what have you done?', and 'how long might you last?'

Lots of voices sing, but it's no wonder what of: they're all cold villains, and through blood shall they slowly slog.

   

But there is one more,

One kind, kind friend,

A question asked:

just

what

is

it

all

for?

    

I wanted to live how  we wanted!

And how she wanted,

 

Even if this is definitely not what she wanted,

Or is it?

[Dandeli]

  

  

Felt it back then, I did in the den of the maker who lost her way,    

            A little crow's croons, a silent brood, lamenting with no parlay,

  Not long did it last, cast soon to the past, once again stowed away,      

But by the tick of fate, t'would seem it would return, rising from it's lay,     

   Unfurling a memory, long and winding, reminding me of colder days,

   

  

What is it all for? Why do we go on? A conundrum that sees me deign!     

          Stilling this heart, slow but replete, worrying about all come what may,

At some point it stops, not daring to bother, driving me largely insane,        

          The valleys will move, kingdoms will fall, even if one might save the day,

But isn't it foolish? Aren't you content? Why is it right now it overspills?       

  

   

        Screams shrill, bloodied, bruised, bitten - I saw it all, what a ruse!

Wintry attrition is stifling and sad, yet there lay even loss in Spring,     

            Am I apart of this? This delicate picture, shifting out of my grasp?

Fickle, answers wrested from my hands, now a wish not to outlast,

Where this sight falters, amiss as it might be, I wish to say:

I want to take it into my hands; the sway of fate, and the bleak day.

     

Yet there is a little bird, a silent song,

Singing now, with no parlay:

     

You know that is wrong,

You know that is wasteful!

    

Accept it all,

Come what may!