a la olwen
the fabular moon, unequivocal,
argentine in tiding time,
tugs the waves of my heart
fro and to phantasmal dreams
witness the boreal sky-shivers
boring into my deep being
where black, shadow, light
are born in a breath-bright
moment, it passes, and forever
bliss scars my sea-deep soul
scalding love, blanket violence
together we're never far from home
lunar lunacy, hanging bloody by,
a heavenly sacrifice, only why?
All too often, we flatten our colors into the simplest
pictures of black and white. Knowing what we know now, what ill-prepared, naïve
decisions might we make? There is little merit to making colorful decisions from
black and white knowledge; we are not myths. How often, in our daily lives, do
we find characters of unequivocal evil, or unblemished good? The knight in
shining, undusty, unnotched armor must be fighting inside a mythos quarantine,
for the moment he steps outside his sterilized story, dust settles into the
corners, and branches snap at his suit, and swords will seek chinks in his
defenses.
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