A Reprise

Earth, air, water, fire Grant me this my one desire My heart and will are strong To last this expanse so long I know that dreams prevail While present self-belief grows frail Yet day to day's a waking dream Of hot, of cold, of see and seem When I can't take another moment Here's another thousand moments Good things come to those who wait But sometimes good things come too late Will I last or quietly expire Awaiting that one true desire

There are ashes in a jar They are not ashes but my days My hours and minutes My thoughts bitten off My self deferred They are not ashes but my moments and my years Blow gently Gently, gently like a bubble Sink quietly and unremarkably into the deep Earth, air, fire and water together combine This is a destruction of a destruction These are clouds in the sky Blowing softly over the God's expanse They are not clouds, but they are my dreams My wishes and desires My hope floating softly A veil across the dark These are not clouds but my vision and my self Float gently Gently, gently like a petal Swathe me with your unbreakable silken strands Earth, air, fire and water together combine This is a replacement of a replacement

As I sit in semi-darkness, Surrounded in a tower of stone, I wonder why, Why I don't leave? What holds me here? This curse, a superstition That if I leave my place the tower will crumble, and I will die. A cold wind blows, And the sun comes and goes intermittently. I find I no longer have a mind for writing novels. My thoughts are too quick and insubstantial. I can't make up my mind about anything. I turn the old myths over and over. It's all I trust anymore. They are all I have to explain myself. Why don't I leave? Why do I sit and rot? I just sit and watch the seasons, And from my limited position try to appreciate everything I can see through my small window. I didn't think it would be this way. I don't know why it is. It seems that even once upon a time while I dreamed That life would be so grand, The seeds for my destruction were already firmly planted within myself. I don't know why I believed when there was no reason to, No evidence before my eyes of...

I do not fear death or hell Or loneliness or unhappiness How can the preacher threaten one with such things? I have known them all And we will all pitch aside all supposed heavenly treasures for one moment of earthly ecstasy I will, I do I take my soul in my hands With this circle I cast I'm not afraid I'm alive this way, when I possess myself and am free to discard these myths about perdition.

Cassandra of the russett hair With eyes of wild green I think on you as fair And on myself as plain. Locked up in twisted trees Twists of hair like boatman's rope I fell beneath your wild eyes And found unexpected hope.

Sleep is the sleep of innocents, of angels Sleep is beneath an arbor of silken bedclothes Sleep is a mound of fragrant rose petals Sleep is the sleep of Beauty in her bower The sun is glowing molten white through frosted glass By the time I am done with my shower the room is almost dark Then it is time to climb into a mound of silken bedclothes cloaked in deep curtains And yearn for restorative sleep Sleep is the sleep of the restless The burning Endless dark moments in a cold void Peering out from bedclothes into the dark Fearfully Going downstairs Eating Writing in my journal Terribly awake now I am out of the house before the sun rises And my eyes are burning and my face looks old Because the sleep of innocents and angels has become a fairy tale Sleep is the sleep of Beauty in her bower, Rapunzel in her tower Her long, long hair bound in a tight golden diadem Sleep is long slim hands clinging to silken white pillows Breathing softly in tandem to the gentle wind swaying the curtains ...