poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

terrified would I be of ye were I more terrestrial but men are small creatures incapable of both, planting their feet firmly on the ground, and keeping their heads in the clouds thus am I better acquainted with angels, daemons and other vaporous creatures than am I with wenches shopkeepers and butchers and rather than terror ’tis fascination that springs forth not unlike the kind that have birds for shiny objects for I know not a soul fey even amongst the elfkin that can mix with children of men and yet retain its brilliance sic mundus creatus est and still, there ye stand before me radiant, unsodden unburdened by the mud of quotidien mortal life and in a universe dark a scintilla of light thou art that draws me like a moth to bear witness a gateway ye are, a keyhole a Meister Eckhardt’s point through which, should I look, God himself would I behold and so it is that the divine with us mingles disguised, and ye, en gud förklädd in the elven tongue my presence graces with thine would that I could touch thee but for the millennia that have the fervours of ancient cardiac flame smothered, extinguished would that I could touch thee and thy being hold fast against me but for the ardours of spirit that father Chronos has effaced would that I could touch thee were such largesse offered to wraiths alas the time has passed! such is the cruel dictum of the Norns The Malakh cometh ere long and quietly shall I ride by his side for all, have I seen of this world and thine beauty the more [17-II-2020]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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