Sta.sh
as through our dance I go
it's not an easy row I hoe.
you're worth it, though.
you told me so.
and of such barters are legends born.
was Aphrodite as beautiful? were her eyes explosions
of light and life that summoned metaphors of distant stars,
in a scale and tale of rebirth beyiond the ken of men
who see nothing of the truth, as a fool cannot tell
diamonds from broken glass. you are worthy of song,
of poetry, of blind artists weeping their limits that such a muse
can only be derived in the words and works of others.
I have taken myself away from the butterflies and banshees,
frail delights of colour and dark creatures of prophecy and sound
that once abounded in my tapestry. I am content to have spent
nearly a decade in a prison of self-immolation, waiting,
if not always patiently, at least purposefully, for your tongue
of flame to make flow the blood in ancient veins again,
giving flesh to the golem and fire to the phoenix.
as through our dance I go
it's not an easy row I hoe.
you're worth it, though.
you told me so.
and of such barters are legends born.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
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