12 January, 2013

Stoker

"It was my hand that sent her to the stars. It was the hand of him that loved her best, the hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose"

So many places I find
In which I might utilize
This contextual, essential,
Old and underused quote!
Upon its discovery by
Lowly little me,
Very nearly my heart wept
With open honesty-
So often I realize, that which
I long to describe has, before
My very existence, already been
Construed to the letter,
If without the exact circumstance
That surrounds my very being.
This is the stuff of dreams!-
Whether truly it is want,
Or if instead my hidden madness
(Although the extent to which
It is secret remains questionable),
Either of these or something else,
Still I strive for understanding
And still I uncover the long-ago
Written sentiments that are alive
This very day, so long after an
Author's death, after anyone
Might truly recognize the reference.
But this one captures fully
What took place in a dream:
That full trust that I crave,
The sincerity that I need!
Once upon a sleep,
When fire and blades
Were my allies...
And the wielder?
Perhaps always a mystery
It shall remain,
For to ask would, ironically,
Be life threatening.
Must removed my Lucy's
Head be? Must this battle
Ruefully go on?
I know of one with hope,
One that I trust with so much.
So, perhaps for now,
I simply wait and watch.