1. |
The Alchemy of Sorrow
14:13
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Sundered from each other
by contrived passages;
Did we ever feel the earth
As it lived beneath our stride?
Bred in a herd to toil together,
Yet heedless of our ties.
Led to invent the routine way,
Our essence, the levy.
Encroaching on these sylvan sanctuaries,
Realms once vibrant and various,
Outcasts and escapists hidden within
Twinning their voices with owls and nightingales
Eyes of a thousand shapes all unseen,
Sheltered from the watchful order.
Watchers and orders trespass the shade
Dousing out mysteries of woodland fables
Evanescing into air like the morning dew
Wounding foxes and stags beyond hunters’ might
Once a realm of lust(er) and shelter,
Our refuges wane under waxing burdens
Withered, this home once lavish
Bereaved of wealded hearth
Shapes lost with the timber
Voices fading with the wind
We languish in this, our hollow home
Bereaved of wealded hearth
As legends lost with the domain
Voices fading with the wind
Wayward mysteries, voices stilled
Kindred, scattered sovereigns,
Set astray by the alchemy of sorrow
(Wayward kings…)
Evanescing into air like the morning dew
Wounding foxes and stags beyond hunters’ might
Once a realm of lust(er) and shelter,
Our refuges wane under waxing burdens
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2. |
The Sorrows of Yearning
15:27
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We have yet to learn
The sorrows of yearning…
(Separation from necessity)
Those brought together
by fate’s design
Desire and embrace
Haven and hearth
One hand scarred and hindered
The other battle-cleaved and absent
An intermittent apparition:
“In my dreams, I have two hands...” (they said)
No sword in hand,
No lute will sing.
Fate sundered
Their essence.
(to) Catalogue his loss amid all the rest;
Shelter his defeat among all of ours.
Those brought together
by fate’s design
Desire and embrace
Haven and hearth
These souls grasping for each other
Separated by secrets, diversions
We were once connected, now cleft;
An amaranthine illusion
Separate from those
Who could know us
No hand in mine,
No voices singing (together)
Solemn dissociation
Dressed as eloquence
We all sunder
Our essence
We have yet to learn of love
The sorrows of yearning…
Secrets of the heart.
No sword in hand,
No lute will sing.
Fate sundered
Our essence.
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