Just feeling like sharing some old poetry, since I’m a bit distracted by other matters at the moment and don’t really feel up to writing anything. Still, I like these poems, and they remain some of the best that I’ve written. This isn’t actually the most recent version of “The Hill in the Meadow,” but the most recent version is in my emails somewhere, and I don’t feel like digging for it.
The Strings of Fate
Surely the Fates do jest by intertwining strings,
And leaving so obscure all possibilities—
What ear can hear the best tone from the bird who sings,
When we are left all deaf and without any wings?—
With which to glide the winds of ever-coming change,
With which to guide us in, to be safe from the cage
That ever seeks to bind within a given mind,
Ensnare, entrap, and dine on what could have been mine
Yet even in the dark, the light must still exist
Because without both, there is nothing to miss
We know the Fates conspire to create the flame
That one day becomes fire, or one day leaves us tame
Is it on us to know which fire will burn on?
Are we to trust and hope that nothing will go wrong?
Can we not adjust to the strings of Fate
When we cannot trust what lies beyond the Gate?
Are there only corners in this sad charade,
From one to two we go, yet we stay in place
Is it the only way—to tear down the wall,
And leave behind the Fey, who betray us all?
And should just one mistake condemn all future days
To bored, complacent rage, or defeating delays?
Should, then, there be a time when we embrace Fate
And move between the Twine, break open the Gate?
There is no guide to this, there is no one to trust
And I can’t trust myself to do what I must—
Should I embrace the wind as it carries me
Into unknown Tempests, breaking monotony?
Though this is what I must come eventually to do–
Surrender and trust in what I know is true:
Embracing what may come and what dreams lie ahead;
For if we live unhappy, are not we really dead?
The Hill in the Meadow
I’ve never seen a moment pass where I would know nothing to say
But what I thought would always last is now fading away.
Climbing our hill, a meadow’s breeze had pulled me down to my knees
Yet still we danced in Summer’s haze, your beauty inspiring a daze
Of this perfect, one harmony, this perfect unity,
This union formed of you and me—this bond we had that no one sees–
Something beyond matrimony, and something more like inner peace;
Something more like inner grace, and nothing bad could touch that place.
The clouds we saw as they came on–should we have surrendered our place?
Would this storm send us separate ways, or would we fight it, stand our place?
We stood our ground, for good or ill, because I left you on that hill.
I could not bear the pouring rains, the lightning strikes and thunderings
I slipped and fell, you grabbed my hand, you pulled me back to solid land
But I had not stabilized, the lightning struck, I went sliding
Down that hill and saw you cry while I was caught in my slide,
Unable to reach you there, being pushed too far to care.
The storm raged on, you cried to me while I cried out in misery
But through thunder’s drums and beating, we could not hear the other screaming.
The black of night’s torrents obscured—could not make out your silhouette
I climbed back up at where I thought would take me right back to your heart–
The more I looked, the more I fought, the more I screamed; the more I sought
To find you where I thought you’d be, the more distance ‘tween you and me
You didn’t know where I fell down, I must assume you looked,
Though the way I failed you there gave you the right to feel forsook.
And when the storm had finally passed, I looked for you, you looked right past,
While we both stared up at our hill, having the strength, but not the will.
I looked at you, you looked at me; offered my hand, you turned from me.
But through the waters, I still see the soothing calm—the meadow’s breeze
The one that brought me to my knees, while still you stand, looking past me.
I looked down and offered my hand so that we could climb up again–
You shook your head, I looked again at that perfect harmony,
Shattered in the only storm that ever touched that place.
Now when I look at the hill, the air is ice and still
The green of spring now brown and gray, all life faded away
Winter has finally set in, which means the lightning’s gone
A memory in distance now, no chance to right its wrongs.
I reached out to you one last time, still wanting to take your hand
Because of all the times that we helped each other stand
This was our hill, though not perfect, as neither of us were–
But now it’s just a memory that I wish I could forget.
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