creature of timidity

may 1995

i reflected upon the fated virginal day
as a mirror created by the still lake.
among the swaying trees and sweet grass,
sitting there quietly, your hair tied up;

euphoria hung graciously about your neck,
glittering as the diamonds that litter
the chamber about the Pharoah's shroud.

pedantic academia stood idlely by
while rippling passions welled up from
the depths of our stirring souls.

perhaps, in your innocent youthfulness,
love was only but a mild dream, conjoured
by the craftmakers of the fanciful lore.

frightened by the unforseen, unknown;
timid in stature and in white grace;
these things have past away into
the blowing sands of eternity.

rhythm and hues of a dancing lyric,
cultivated by the meandering mood
of a child from the lesser god.
the drums beat louder in the distance.

the groans of a chorus not known
to man alive yet faries all around.
the air weighted down my shoulders
and pressed our silent lips together.

possession of spirit rooted within
discovering its ill-fated mate;
beating louder until all is one,
and none else is well understood.

rapture swept them into oblivion,
until numbness overcame all senses,
and bandaged their wounds of the moment;
their pets, laying by their side.

these are the verses of my blood,
written upon the pages of my heart,
sealed with the wax of imagination,
and burned at the rotting stake.

about the creature of timidity,
whose journey fell her to a coma, where
she died without a cause, only to awake
as a creature of curiosity.

d. e. storey