deepundergroundpoetry.com
Take My Hand
- Take My Hand -
Take my hand, and so let me take thee forth from all of sorrow, which thou may know!
Let me take thy hand, and thusly mine eyes shall behold the ending of their tears.
Place thy lips upon mine own, and in that kiss I shall be made clean as fallen snow!
Let us make merry in the darkness, our radiance stretching forth beyond our years.
Why be so silent, oh gentle maid, when my voice, as a bard's, calls thee from afar?
Let me hear thy own song in sweet reply, if thou hast soft word to give me in return.
I have waited long, and in that eternity I have allowed my soul so very far to soar...
That I hath grown beyond all I was, for of knowledge mysterious once I did yearn,
Until no more for knowledge did I quest, its’ gift to me did not contentment bestow.
Only love can quench the thirst in which I dwell, unceasing as it is in its’ grasp of me!
Every living thing, reaches a point at which it requires love's own passion to grow...
For therein is the purest form of compassion, when we give of our hearts completely.
Oh gentle maid, who hath called thee powerless, hath named thee ill, and blindly that!
For in thy soft arms lies power over a mortal's fate, as what would I not give for thee?
Much already have I given, in song and praise like that heard where angels thus sat!
And time spent dreaming of our meeting, time spent upon the wings of some eternity.
When will the destined hour come, what color shall be thy eyes and hair, maiden fair?
I cannot dream forever, and soon must come the time, lest age rob us of our chances.
Too much pain hath I known, and even into death's eye did mine own gaze so stare!
What thy name will be, I know not, but pray do tell me and join me in my mad dances.
For those who dance not in love, in youth, must still dance with one grimmer one day,
That time inescapable claims us in the end, makes us need one another with a fury...
So, let us spend the fury within ourselves in making merry, oh gentle maid, I thus say!
And merry will be our meeting indeed, to make dark spirits weep with its’ grand flurry.
Do I focus on love overmuch, and prize it higher than any spirit perchance oft should?
Better to focus on love, than to bestow all honor and glory unto loneliness and sorrow.
For that which I love gives glory unto those deities that honor it and its’ happy mood!
And what shall I love, for in my heart there is none to call beloved upon the morrow?
If thou art a gentle maid, and upon my errant words thy eyes perchance to but rest,
Let thy gaze linger, and let thy heart feel the beating of mine own as I pen all of this.
Know that I would love thee like none other, and in that love find every zeal and zest!
I would make thee my queen, and our kingdom would be filled with every: happy bliss.
So be not shy, nor prudish as this age would have of so many who would know peace,
Were they but bolder in spirit, for love is a daring thing and requires boldness to savor.
Let us make of ourselves more than this world allots, a thing pure as a golden fleece,
Yet living, unlike that thing of myth now long past, for living and loving has such flavor!
If we raise ourselves even unto the highest, who shall say that we were vainly foolish?
Only they whose jealousy we need not, oh gentle maid, to gladden our hearts eternal.
If we cherish every passing hour, and let no hour pass that we do not thusly cherish...
Are we mad, or do we but see with the clarity greater than that which some call normal?
Come to me, and we shall see for ourselves what glorious things which await us both,
As only glory awaits those who give themselves over to love, in a Dionysian abandon...
Far better it is than wasting our lives either in sorrow or in anger made fell and wroth!
Let them judge us who know better, but not one voice shall cry out, for there are none.
Does not a lonely life beget anger, when it is the natural course of life to be not alone?
Let us quench the fires that fill us with ire, in the wine that Aphrodite pours with plenty!
We are not monks doing some idle penance, seeking foolishly and endlessly to atone.
So, oh gentle maid, let us build the center of our universe around one another, merrily.
A new year beckons, and I long to share it with thee, gentle maid who would be mine...
So come from out of the shadows of my dreams, and step into the light where I behold,
Such brightness in my hopes and light in my desires, which thou canst make sublime.
We are not meant to be alone, for every soul hath it's mate as is always wisely foretold,
By philosophers and sages, by oracles and by prophets, but best by hearts that feel...
For those without feelings cannot fathom the depth of the spirit, the worth of the soul.
Not with ice in their veins, nor stone in their sinews, but warmth that is almost unreal,
This is what is required to know the Goddesses of love, and of their designs for us all.
All who are in their light are blessed, so let us walk together in that glow, everlasting...
Dwelling not in shadows or darkness, but proud as lions let us begin our lives as anew.
Oh gentle maid who would be my queen, come forth and join the fellowship I do bring!
Let not one more year slip by, before we two dare to make our every dream come true.
Take my hand, and so let me take thee forth from all of sorrow, which thou may know!
Let me take thy hand, and thusly mine eyes shall behold the ending of their tears.
Place thy lips upon mine own, and in that kiss I shall be made clean as fallen snow!
Let us make merry in the darkness, our radiance stretching forth beyond our years.
Why be so silent, oh gentle maid, when my voice, as a bard's, calls thee from afar?
Let me hear thy own song in sweet reply, if thou hast soft word to give me in return.
I have waited long, and in that eternity I have allowed my soul so very far to soar...
That I hath grown beyond all I was, for of knowledge mysterious once I did yearn,
Until no more for knowledge did I quest, its’ gift to me did not contentment bestow.
Only love can quench the thirst in which I dwell, unceasing as it is in its’ grasp of me!
Every living thing, reaches a point at which it requires love's own passion to grow...
For therein is the purest form of compassion, when we give of our hearts completely.
Oh gentle maid, who hath called thee powerless, hath named thee ill, and blindly that!
For in thy soft arms lies power over a mortal's fate, as what would I not give for thee?
Much already have I given, in song and praise like that heard where angels thus sat!
And time spent dreaming of our meeting, time spent upon the wings of some eternity.
When will the destined hour come, what color shall be thy eyes and hair, maiden fair?
I cannot dream forever, and soon must come the time, lest age rob us of our chances.
Too much pain hath I known, and even into death's eye did mine own gaze so stare!
What thy name will be, I know not, but pray do tell me and join me in my mad dances.
For those who dance not in love, in youth, must still dance with one grimmer one day,
That time inescapable claims us in the end, makes us need one another with a fury...
So, let us spend the fury within ourselves in making merry, oh gentle maid, I thus say!
And merry will be our meeting indeed, to make dark spirits weep with its’ grand flurry.
Do I focus on love overmuch, and prize it higher than any spirit perchance oft should?
Better to focus on love, than to bestow all honor and glory unto loneliness and sorrow.
For that which I love gives glory unto those deities that honor it and its’ happy mood!
And what shall I love, for in my heart there is none to call beloved upon the morrow?
If thou art a gentle maid, and upon my errant words thy eyes perchance to but rest,
Let thy gaze linger, and let thy heart feel the beating of mine own as I pen all of this.
Know that I would love thee like none other, and in that love find every zeal and zest!
I would make thee my queen, and our kingdom would be filled with every: happy bliss.
So be not shy, nor prudish as this age would have of so many who would know peace,
Were they but bolder in spirit, for love is a daring thing and requires boldness to savor.
Let us make of ourselves more than this world allots, a thing pure as a golden fleece,
Yet living, unlike that thing of myth now long past, for living and loving has such flavor!
If we raise ourselves even unto the highest, who shall say that we were vainly foolish?
Only they whose jealousy we need not, oh gentle maid, to gladden our hearts eternal.
If we cherish every passing hour, and let no hour pass that we do not thusly cherish...
Are we mad, or do we but see with the clarity greater than that which some call normal?
Come to me, and we shall see for ourselves what glorious things which await us both,
As only glory awaits those who give themselves over to love, in a Dionysian abandon...
Far better it is than wasting our lives either in sorrow or in anger made fell and wroth!
Let them judge us who know better, but not one voice shall cry out, for there are none.
Does not a lonely life beget anger, when it is the natural course of life to be not alone?
Let us quench the fires that fill us with ire, in the wine that Aphrodite pours with plenty!
We are not monks doing some idle penance, seeking foolishly and endlessly to atone.
So, oh gentle maid, let us build the center of our universe around one another, merrily.
A new year beckons, and I long to share it with thee, gentle maid who would be mine...
So come from out of the shadows of my dreams, and step into the light where I behold,
Such brightness in my hopes and light in my desires, which thou canst make sublime.
We are not meant to be alone, for every soul hath it's mate as is always wisely foretold,
By philosophers and sages, by oracles and by prophets, but best by hearts that feel...
For those without feelings cannot fathom the depth of the spirit, the worth of the soul.
Not with ice in their veins, nor stone in their sinews, but warmth that is almost unreal,
This is what is required to know the Goddesses of love, and of their designs for us all.
All who are in their light are blessed, so let us walk together in that glow, everlasting...
Dwelling not in shadows or darkness, but proud as lions let us begin our lives as anew.
Oh gentle maid who would be my queen, come forth and join the fellowship I do bring!
Let not one more year slip by, before we two dare to make our every dream come true.
Published 4th Jan 2013
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Anonymous
4th Jan 2013 8:31am
Such a beautiful heartfelt piece, you wrote it like a Blessing for the new year.
It shines with radiance!
It shines with radiance!
6th Jan 2013 5:23am
Indeed, dear Mourganna, it was intended very much in that way... a New Year's Blessing, of sorts. :) I am glad you loved it!
4th Jan 2013 5:13pm
You do a wonderful job of writing old English in your poetic voice. Your words certainly come alive in the piece. Sort of Shakespearian in my opinion =]
6th Jan 2013 5:27am
Thank you very much! I am honored by the comparison to such a legend as Shakespeare. I love to add a certain element of classical beauty to all my poems but for some such as this one... the feeling I am trying to capture can only be done justice with a certain element of Old English elegance. ;) Which I am pleased to see you appreciated.
