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12/8/80
A voice calls betwixt the willow branches in the immaculate sky,
I lament for it, but without reason or rhyme.
"What troubles lie within those eyes so bright
That I should discover your presence so late at night?"
The melancholy monotone hath consorted me through
myriad a strife
But this has brought too great a life.
Destiny would not bare the sight of one without a care.
No, tender apparition, your nature is only the bitter air
I will not emit an answer to one who is not there!
O', for a minute it seemed real
Prince of immortality, I would more than kneel.
Wherein he could grant me an ounce of pleasure
for a pound of pain,
Suspending, surreal disdain
Could this be infatuation's desire
A dance of two spirits intertwining?
"Yes", his will is mine.
There lies a calling within the depths of my soul
Which shall be answered my he, whom I could never know.
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