By Quill of Night

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."