This is the first part of a poem very much unfinished and unrefined. It deals with some similar themes as The Odes of Fancy, Moons, and my essay on Romanticism, but other issues as well. Suggestions are of course welcome, especially with respects to a better title!
A Better Road
Well I can feel my soul - it's bleeding; will you fly with me this evening?-'By My Side,' by 3 Doors Down
Caked in colors of mud I awoke,
evening was deep around, a dancing
of shades of self-mockery
dodged between the wilderness,
that which only could be seen
by I. Close and hard-pressed
the emptiness of that night,
a blacness as sadistic as still.
These projections maneuvered to hide
any hopeful ray that might shine.
Heavy weights pressed in,
and where to turn unknown,
bleakest hopes drained to only dross.
A wanderer become, lost in this
profundity of loss, too weary
for thoughts and too anxious for rest.
"Weary traveler," called she most far,
a shining ray in shadow's lair,
Though faint she was to my sight
I could not doubt her precious light.
I pressed to step through the shadows,
leaves crushed under heavy foot, and the
wind whistled stark protest lest I reap even
least progress.
But in lieu of my lady hope
whose hand she had reached out to the wanderer,
to cease, to falter, to reject, oh, most horrible
and unthinkable.
To her fled this wanderer,
Between the gasping grasps of hungry
shadowed reflections.
In time it came to me
that yet so far was she
her aspect so glorious that it
could be seen. And so to escape
the depths of this dark, I
knew the weights of this wanderer
must needs be endured, and
to cast the shadow down
I could only persevere.
Yet as I walked from my heart's confinement,
the shadows chased and this wanderer's
feet grew soon weary.
I paused to rest, in anguish for what yet
lay off so far.
As I sat in mists of night
a silver ray fell from her,
the crescent throne of mine maiden.
To my very and came that beam,
and like a cord it spun about, betwixt
my fath-shaken fingers.
To guide, to know your path, to
search and to find passage,
follow my length through the halls
of the three deeps; then to my
mistress you may walk on your feet,
and swim by your limbs,
and if you prove true to your prayer
by me shall you fly
to the silver heart of grace.
So spoke the Voice of my lady's gift,
never again to speak with words,
but only through heart and soul.
Hence I stood on my lowly station,
and mine eyes cast down as unworthy,
out my hand I cast
and followed my untouchable guide
to a better road.
That is, I'm not sure what it's about, but it sounds very nice. 