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A Storm of Whispers
- A Storm of Whispers -
I close my eyes and into the arms of dreams give up my soul,
Knowing what awaits me in the memories beyond my control.
And should my soul give up the flesh for but a span of hours,
What will I encounter in those domains of the higher powers?
The ages of mankind have passed like fleeting moments past,
Of joy, of sorrow, of peace and war, of love and hate so vast!
All these things do make a soul, and more if we care to gaze,
Into the darkness between the worlds, when pass the days.
As I look into the mirror, I wonder if I have changed within...
Feeling as if the strength I need is upon some lofty mountain.
How life can sap the will from you, when heavy is your heart,
I wish I could create a dream, and within it savor every part!
Dreams, to our sorrow, are things not wholly of our creation,
Oft ethereal as whispers in the night, promising pure elation.
Yet in the grasp of the storm that comes we can become lost,
If a soul is old, as mine, then heavy can be the eternal cost...
For a wanderer from Paradise, can search for beauty in vain,
In places where hearts are grown cold, and deep runs pain.
Ah, it is heavy to speak of the times when I have despaired,
And wished for wings to fly high upon the night's ebon stairs!
The pale moon's glow, like Diana's bow, glitters amidst stars,
And as I dance beneath it, I pray the night will hide my scars.
Oh, where has the laughter gone in the valleys and the hills?
Now only the moaning of the wind is there: sound that chills.
A church bell rings to break the silence of the night's embrace,
Late comes the faith it brings, and it lacks true divine grace...
To hear that hollow sound ringing out through the shadows,
When I so long to hear harps and flutes upon the meadows!
Gone are the pretty maids with daisies in their hair adorned,
With garlands green and of such lovely flowers thus formed...
Gone into the ages, with the chivalrous notions once praised;
Mankind has lost all former glory the more it has been raised.
Raised up by inanimate things devoid of life, like pale shades,
Forsaking nature's bounty: whilst lonely grow the old glades.
Once upon a time, you could find true joy amongst the trees,
But now they are cut down, by a greed that slays all it sees!
Where is the heart that beats strong and firm, in love secure,
Where is the power that carries the river to a distant shore?
Such hearts have ceased to beat, like drums, in our breasts!
Yet mine is not fallen silent, despite all life's countless tests.
Where is the maid who will take my hand without any fear...
Where is she whose eyes will be the stars by which I steer?
The sands of the hourglass pass too quickly into their hollow,
Whilst I am but one fallen soul seeking for dreams to follow.
No one sees me weeping in the night save some far divinity,
No one hears me singing of my hopes, and ever so fervently!
Desire is my madness, passion the flame that drives it onward,
Towards some distant paradise, wings carrying us homeward.
I close my eyes and into the arms of dreams give up my soul,
Knowing what awaits me in the memories beyond my control.
And should my soul give up the flesh for but a span of hours,
What will I encounter in those domains of the higher powers?
The ages of mankind have passed like fleeting moments past,
Of joy, of sorrow, of peace and war, of love and hate so vast!
All these things do make a soul, and more if we care to gaze,
Into the darkness between the worlds, when pass the days.
As I look into the mirror, I wonder if I have changed within...
Feeling as if the strength I need is upon some lofty mountain.
How life can sap the will from you, when heavy is your heart,
I wish I could create a dream, and within it savor every part!
Dreams, to our sorrow, are things not wholly of our creation,
Oft ethereal as whispers in the night, promising pure elation.
Yet in the grasp of the storm that comes we can become lost,
If a soul is old, as mine, then heavy can be the eternal cost...
For a wanderer from Paradise, can search for beauty in vain,
In places where hearts are grown cold, and deep runs pain.
Ah, it is heavy to speak of the times when I have despaired,
And wished for wings to fly high upon the night's ebon stairs!
The pale moon's glow, like Diana's bow, glitters amidst stars,
And as I dance beneath it, I pray the night will hide my scars.
Oh, where has the laughter gone in the valleys and the hills?
Now only the moaning of the wind is there: sound that chills.
A church bell rings to break the silence of the night's embrace,
Late comes the faith it brings, and it lacks true divine grace...
To hear that hollow sound ringing out through the shadows,
When I so long to hear harps and flutes upon the meadows!
Gone are the pretty maids with daisies in their hair adorned,
With garlands green and of such lovely flowers thus formed...
Gone into the ages, with the chivalrous notions once praised;
Mankind has lost all former glory the more it has been raised.
Raised up by inanimate things devoid of life, like pale shades,
Forsaking nature's bounty: whilst lonely grow the old glades.
Once upon a time, you could find true joy amongst the trees,
But now they are cut down, by a greed that slays all it sees!
Where is the heart that beats strong and firm, in love secure,
Where is the power that carries the river to a distant shore?
Such hearts have ceased to beat, like drums, in our breasts!
Yet mine is not fallen silent, despite all life's countless tests.
Where is the maid who will take my hand without any fear...
Where is she whose eyes will be the stars by which I steer?
The sands of the hourglass pass too quickly into their hollow,
Whilst I am but one fallen soul seeking for dreams to follow.
No one sees me weeping in the night save some far divinity,
No one hears me singing of my hopes, and ever so fervently!
Desire is my madness, passion the flame that drives it onward,
Towards some distant paradise, wings carrying us homeward.
Published 28th Dec 2012
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