Where No Heaven Shines
© Surazeus
2016 12 27
She rises from the flowers of the field
and dances around me with flashing eyes,
translating the secret code of our names
into the song of the wind and the stars.
Laughing like the river, she sings to me,
"We are the children of the dreaming Earth,
flashes of sunlight congealed in thick flesh
who long for the stars where no heaven shines."
Holding my hand like I might fall back down
into the gloom of the bottomless sea,
she leads me along the river of eyes
to the grove where ravens watch us from oaks.
She kisses the gray-bearded sage who grins
and shows me one hundred tablets of wood
where he carved in Runes, thin letters of trees,
the tale of his father, Godin the Just.
When moonlight gleams through branches of oaks
she holds me close to her warm beating breast
so her eyes enclose the stars of my hope
and kisses me till I become the world.
She sings in my heart as I lose my name,
"Before your eyes appeared bright in my sky
I was drowning in moonlight of despair
and now your spirit fills my heart with light."
Beneath the oak tree that holds up the sky
she suckles the daughter born from her heart
and sings to her stories of how the world
was made by the hands of the singing sun.
She places our sleeping child in my arms
and lies cold among the flowers of light
and though I call out her name day and night
she never wakes again from dreamless sleep.
I embrace the child she formed from my soul
and kneel by the river where her eyes flash
white lightning that pierces my aching heart
but it seems no kiss can wake her from death.
Her body melts into the rain-wet soil
and her eyes sprout into flowers at dawn
where I teach our daughter to sing and run
and play in the wings of the shining sun.
Beneath the oak tree that blossoms with stars
she sings with the raven who brings her gems
and listens when the moon asks her true name
though her eyes gleam blue with knowledge of death.
Holding her hand like she might fall back down
into the gloom of the bottomless sea,
I lead her along the river of eyes
to the grove where ravens watch us from oaks.
I show her one hundred tablets of wood
where an old man carved thin letters of trees
to preserve the tale of some ancient god,
but the tablets rotted away in rain.
She rises from the flowers of the field
and dances around me with flashing eyes,
translating the secret code of our names
into the song of the hills and the sea.
Laughing like the river, she sings to me,
"We are the children of the dreaming Earth,
flashes of sunlight congealed in thick flesh
who long for the stars where no heaven shines."
© Surazeus
2016 12 27
She rises from the flowers of the field
and dances around me with flashing eyes,
translating the secret code of our names
into the song of the wind and the stars.
Laughing like the river, she sings to me,
"We are the children of the dreaming Earth,
flashes of sunlight congealed in thick flesh
who long for the stars where no heaven shines."
Holding my hand like I might fall back down
into the gloom of the bottomless sea,
she leads me along the river of eyes
to the grove where ravens watch us from oaks.
She kisses the gray-bearded sage who grins
and shows me one hundred tablets of wood
where he carved in Runes, thin letters of trees,
the tale of his father, Godin the Just.
When moonlight gleams through branches of oaks
she holds me close to her warm beating breast
so her eyes enclose the stars of my hope
and kisses me till I become the world.
She sings in my heart as I lose my name,
"Before your eyes appeared bright in my sky
I was drowning in moonlight of despair
and now your spirit fills my heart with light."
Beneath the oak tree that holds up the sky
she suckles the daughter born from her heart
and sings to her stories of how the world
was made by the hands of the singing sun.
She places our sleeping child in my arms
and lies cold among the flowers of light
and though I call out her name day and night
she never wakes again from dreamless sleep.
I embrace the child she formed from my soul
and kneel by the river where her eyes flash
white lightning that pierces my aching heart
but it seems no kiss can wake her from death.
Her body melts into the rain-wet soil
and her eyes sprout into flowers at dawn
where I teach our daughter to sing and run
and play in the wings of the shining sun.
Beneath the oak tree that blossoms with stars
she sings with the raven who brings her gems
and listens when the moon asks her true name
though her eyes gleam blue with knowledge of death.
Holding her hand like she might fall back down
into the gloom of the bottomless sea,
I lead her along the river of eyes
to the grove where ravens watch us from oaks.
I show her one hundred tablets of wood
where an old man carved thin letters of trees
to preserve the tale of some ancient god,
but the tablets rotted away in rain.
She rises from the flowers of the field
and dances around me with flashing eyes,
translating the secret code of our names
into the song of the hills and the sea.
Laughing like the river, she sings to me,
"We are the children of the dreaming Earth,
flashes of sunlight congealed in thick flesh
who long for the stars where no heaven shines."
Wow! An imagination cut loose
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