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Forsaken Waltz
- Forsaken Waltz -
Peaceful slumber eludes me, more oft than is not,
For my spirit wanders beyond world and thought…
Finding solace in shadows, where I can oft recall:
What peace was like, when I had known it at all!
I canst give it no name, nor imagine a single place,
But I can almost see with mine eyes a beautiful face.
In another life, in another time, she was my refuge,
But when modern times came, peace didst so elude:
My errant spirit, for I couldst find her, no longer…
So I kept seeking ever seeking, growing stronger.
I never found her, and my sleep is hard to endure,
For it sometimes takes me back to her once more.
I long to stay in her arms, but they are long dead!
And, if she hath been reborn, is it to similar dread:
As that which plagues me whenever I try to sleep?
Doth fear of loneliness into her bosom: oft creep…
And if not then she is more blessed than my soul.
For my memories and terrors are beyond control!
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, of the hidden secrets?
Within my shadowy places they are, for thee, kept.
Art thou willing to understand time’s eternal cycle?
I, who hath been adrift upon it, know it all too well.
I know how I lived, and I know how I didst perish,
Sometimes peacefully, with loved ones to cherish.
But more oft in harsher ways I do prefer to forget,
Yet in my nightmares I remember in eternal regret.
So many names hath I held, and none didst suit…
Except those of my choosing, to bear virgin fruit,
Starting over and hoping to find a better existence:
Than yearning and turning upon the cosmic dance!
Sometimes I long for the sun to warm my bones…
And other times I prefer things colder than stones.
When harsh burns the sun, and I turn then away…
I long for the moon’s comfort more than the day.
Secretly I hope she waits for me in the darkness,
And upon the dawn, finding naught, I feel distress.
When didst mine eternity become a waiting game?
And how didst my passion become such a flame…
That, even after so many centuries, my fire burns,
For a single maiden for whom my spirit yet yearns!
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, of the meaning of love?
Within my breast it is forever, beyond stars above.
Art thou willing, to embrace, that which is undying?
I may help thee, if thou canst still my spirit’s crying.
I do not recognize sometimes this changed world,
Into which, in this life, my spirit hath been hurtled.
Too fast in some aspects, and in others too slow!
What happened, to the world I once didst know?
To the pretty maidens who put of flowers in hair…
And danced in the springtime, no one to compare,
To the picture they painted of innocent joy, pure!
Shall I ever see the like of them again once more?
Alas the groves in which we danced are gone too,
Cut all down in ages past, which no one can undo.
I still see them in my mind, exactly as they were…
And, within my bosom, a thing forgotten doth stir.
So many forgotten things yet haunt me in the night,
Making my heart long still greater, for lost delight.
An immortal soul is something few can imagine…
The pain of, when memories of past joys and sin,
Never fade, as with mortals, but remain to taunt!
And in the night a single face doth my spirit haunt.
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, that which is forsaken?
Within my flame is where such things are partaken.
Art thou willing to dance with me upon a new pyre?
I long for such a waltz ere all this world doth expire.
Peaceful slumber eludes me, more oft than is not,
For my spirit wanders beyond world and thought…
Finding solace in shadows, where I can oft recall:
What peace was like, when I had known it at all!
I canst give it no name, nor imagine a single place,
But I can almost see with mine eyes a beautiful face.
In another life, in another time, she was my refuge,
But when modern times came, peace didst so elude:
My errant spirit, for I couldst find her, no longer…
So I kept seeking ever seeking, growing stronger.
I never found her, and my sleep is hard to endure,
For it sometimes takes me back to her once more.
I long to stay in her arms, but they are long dead!
And, if she hath been reborn, is it to similar dread:
As that which plagues me whenever I try to sleep?
Doth fear of loneliness into her bosom: oft creep…
And if not then she is more blessed than my soul.
For my memories and terrors are beyond control!
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, of the hidden secrets?
Within my shadowy places they are, for thee, kept.
Art thou willing to understand time’s eternal cycle?
I, who hath been adrift upon it, know it all too well.
I know how I lived, and I know how I didst perish,
Sometimes peacefully, with loved ones to cherish.
But more oft in harsher ways I do prefer to forget,
Yet in my nightmares I remember in eternal regret.
So many names hath I held, and none didst suit…
Except those of my choosing, to bear virgin fruit,
Starting over and hoping to find a better existence:
Than yearning and turning upon the cosmic dance!
Sometimes I long for the sun to warm my bones…
And other times I prefer things colder than stones.
When harsh burns the sun, and I turn then away…
I long for the moon’s comfort more than the day.
Secretly I hope she waits for me in the darkness,
And upon the dawn, finding naught, I feel distress.
When didst mine eternity become a waiting game?
And how didst my passion become such a flame…
That, even after so many centuries, my fire burns,
For a single maiden for whom my spirit yet yearns!
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, of the meaning of love?
Within my breast it is forever, beyond stars above.
Art thou willing, to embrace, that which is undying?
I may help thee, if thou canst still my spirit’s crying.
I do not recognize sometimes this changed world,
Into which, in this life, my spirit hath been hurtled.
Too fast in some aspects, and in others too slow!
What happened, to the world I once didst know?
To the pretty maidens who put of flowers in hair…
And danced in the springtime, no one to compare,
To the picture they painted of innocent joy, pure!
Shall I ever see the like of them again once more?
Alas the groves in which we danced are gone too,
Cut all down in ages past, which no one can undo.
I still see them in my mind, exactly as they were…
And, within my bosom, a thing forgotten doth stir.
So many forgotten things yet haunt me in the night,
Making my heart long still greater, for lost delight.
An immortal soul is something few can imagine…
The pain of, when memories of past joys and sin,
Never fade, as with mortals, but remain to taunt!
And in the night a single face doth my spirit haunt.
Wouldst thou learn, mortal, that which is forsaken?
Within my flame is where such things are partaken.
Art thou willing to dance with me upon a new pyre?
I long for such a waltz ere all this world doth expire.
Published 19th Oct 2014
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The author encourages honest critique.
19th Oct 2014 6:46am
With the dark recess of the mind, where memories of souls that lived through the cycles reside...they remember. For them who are remembering still, the haunting memories remain.
Good read, Jessica as always.
Good read, Jessica as always.
20th Oct 2014 6:24am
You see true as always, dear Grace! There are many who are not able to see as we can, but for those of use who can see as we do... it can sometimes be a haunting experience when we ponder the things that were of old compared to the now. Just all part of having that sort of sight... or insight! Glad you liked the poem, my friend. Your comment was very wise and knowing, as ever. :)
19th Oct 2014 9:42am
20th Oct 2014 6:28am
Quite so, quite so! We live in a multiverse of infinite possibilities in which time is a cycle, so sometimes we come to a point that reminds us of a point we walked long ago and might one day walk again. Such points are powerful and resonate though the fabric of time, space, and reality... and in such moments one can learn much, and forget much too if one is not careful. ;)
Anonymous
19th Oct 2014 8:14pm
Jessica, my dear friend, this poem absorbed itself through my pores, the atmosphere so dreamy and yet slightly dark, but within the heart of this tale, shines a glint of hope.
20th Oct 2014 6:31am
You have the right of the poem's tone, Mourganna... indeed it is as you wisely noted: a contemplation of darkness and light, with rays of light shining through the darkness as such radiance always must, sooner or later. I am glad you found the read a powerful one, dear friend!
20th Oct 2014 3:08am
This is the most velvet form of darkness. I'm a little clumsy, but I wouldn't mind dancing with you upon that pyre. But, lest I perish, thanks for this rich, midnight, visionary work.
20th Oct 2014 6:34am
I am glad you found the darkness to your liking, Crowfly! And worry not, there is always room for more to dance in the velvet night's ebony folds. Tee-hee-hee! I am happy you enjoyed this work of mine, my friend. Thanks for stopping by to tell me so, too! :)
