Letter To Arwen - Iv

Myths, legends, lores, mystify the velvet Red milk of grief flows around my hut. The chariot beckons me home, Its speed; light knows! I linger onto the Eagle velvet Shall I walk in the desert? Bear this cold for long? This chariot; a patient rider, Awaits me on the banks of the Mississippi, I battle my gain for the velvet, The chariot; a good one Eagle velvet; a sibyl The sibyl, my Arwen. My wet loin; a fine tunic, I wander to wonder the velvet Authority regained! Home, home, the chariot Through the Eiffel tower; Down the banks of Thames, Into the Nile. Shall I say it be a dream? Vision or trance? I bemoan Yet, it let's me down! I wait gladly for its return...