Are in thine Pure Eyes;
Shining as an Elven Spell,
Beyond the Lonely Skies.
The Fires of this Broken Earth,
Like the Flames of Hell's Abyss,
Could not Pass the Token of Mirth
In the Claims of thine Kiss.
Yet, in the Fervour of your Enchantment...
The Solemn Grin of Dire Purpose,
Will never Depart the Benevolent
Desire to Purge the Treacherous.
Thine Arrow of untamed Gold,
Alights Sorrow unnamed of Old,
To Fade and Wither upon the Dawn...
But Shade not the Field Marigolds;
For the Jade Fawn will be Drawn.
Ages Past you have Known...
History, Cold, Dark as Stone.
Yet set Apart and Alone.
Hast thou Heard the Mourning Dove?
I Dwelt upon the Call of it.
Hast thou Feasted on Love?
I have only Tasted it...
But the Sea; Waters of Beauty and Strife.
The Land hast Loved you,
Yet the Waters, the Sea, calls upon Life.
The Earth hast Lent anew,
The Air upon thine Feet set True.
You long for the Sea,
Beyond all there could be.
What more couldst thou Desire?
For the lands are Hot with Fire...
Awaiting the Warm Rain Falling down,
The Stinging Tears in Vain on thy Brow.
But the Gulls Cry Haunts thee...
Their Soul is High and found Free.
They Call alongside the Waves Murmurs,
As in all Spells aside thy own Whispers.
Yes, I have Spoken thus
Of a Spell less Perilous...
A Bond white as the Sun's Gleam;
Innocent, yet Sensuous.
The Waters Flow, the River's Dream,
Abides in thine Eyes.
I have Seen thy will Arise,
I have Sought the Heart's Chamber,
Yet my Voice would not Rise,
It was Caught, Lost amongst Myrrh.
Also, what Words I Speak of the Sea,
What Utterings I have Voiced of thee!
Verily, the Sea is its own Entrapment
But I see that now I will not Repent...
For should I Regret to Say
That upon this Light of Day;
The very Depths of thy Soul's Well
Has the Might of an Elven spell?