this house
The window is open and the wind is cold--
I wonder where the ice on your breath came from.
Had you gone to take a walk before dinner?
The scent of winter is all over you.
Ah, but they say that music is a jealous lover,
not unlike the sea. Just as cresting waves hide away
the Forgotten Ones, so do delicate notes
drop as thunder and take they that we love.
O Stars--o sentinels of the night immortal!
I asked you, so long ago, to watch and watch over her,
to guard her dreams from the sands of uncertainty.
But where is she now?
Gone, you whisper in the night.
To where? I ask, but you will not answer. To where?
I ask, but you will not answer. O Stars of the night immortal,
why do you hide from me? Stand, and take a stand,
and let me fight for they that I love. Must we continue
this battle of ages ago? I thought the mist of blood and gore
had been long-gone from your dreams. So why
do you hide from me, now--why cloak yourself in shadow?
Come, through the window, and I will give you all
you ask. This house is dank with a death-mist,
but there is life still yet. And while I am living there will be life,
and I will fight for they that I love.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
