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Steadfast, he, as fortress guarded
In his ivory tower slept 
Fearing naught, though faith-departed
Knowing not his lover wept.
Cowardice, thought long-discarded
Secretly in silence crept
Corroded, as if silver, tarnished 
‘Twas his heart - her only quest.

Haunting, held-yet lamentations 
Shadowed, formless, quiet-kept;
Scattered, dreadful fragmentations
Clandestine, each vast regret. 
Chained, entrenched in condemnation 
Both had reasons, undisclosed;
Chambers dark, with strong libations 
Lost and distant, she deposed:

"Gone is past, from thence, and thusly, 
‘Tis this present moment borne
Beloved, ye have yet to trust me 
Recollect, reprieve and mourn.
Harbor ye such love for family;
Dedication; worth unknown
Wretchedly, the wraiths do vex thee 
Reaping naught, as they had sown.

Waste not years or months or days  
On feigning in such foolish ways;
Fear and fright, formidable foes, they 
Stealing sight, do turn thy gaze.
Lest ye crumble, lest I break thee 
Chance is none but ours to take;
Lest ye hate me, lest I make thee 
Death becomes us all in wake."

Bereft and weak from endless longing 
Fawning, she, for his delights;
Frozen, he feared love as daunting 
Brazen weapons used to spite.
Helplessness ‘twas nigh like calling
Distant pleas by dark of night; 
Shielded, he, by stones but falling 
Wielded ink by candlelight:

"Swiftly, as by cloak and dagger 
HEED NOW, as I take this quill - 
Seek I neither love nor banter
Go away - do what ye will!
Serpent as to merchant - heartache
Burden, bested: torment taunts.
Leave me, for I cannot fail thee
Nor can tell thee of mine wants."  

Youth seemed long ago and lonesome
Time began to take its toll;
Days, then weeks and months to come
Were heartless and aggrieved and cold.
Firmly, held he, his resolve, and
Tightly, held she, one long rope;
Desperate to become absolved 
From bitterness, this noose of hope.   

"Why do I write, as if to measure 
Lasting grief, or sorrow’s tune?
My dearest, surely ‘tis not pleasure
But to pine, regret and swoon.
Deftly did ye take forbidden 
Fruit from but one humble tree;
Now, darest ye, escape the hidden 
Grasp of which hath yet to be!

Hearest ye my last confession
Spoken under clouded moon:
Sands of time, though deep in lessons, 
Do fall quickly, all too soon.
Choose thine poison, choose it wisely; 
Only one ye cannot flee 
Which ye rather, which more likely?
Either, ye have yet to see."
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