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Adrian von Ziegler “Morrígan”

Give me every last feeling
Give me sorrow
Give me grief
Make me cry
Make me bleed
Make me hurt
Give me just one valid reason to proceed
Wish to skip through crisp leaves
Feel them lift in the breeze
Give me every last feeling
To make sense of their meaning

Rome was built not in a day
Neither did its Empire decline the same way
Takes great commitment to locate the pieces
Fit them into ever shifting puzzles in quaint ways
The gateway is open
Leads straight to the same place we played in our heyday
Before faith was waylaid
Deep within this thicket
A single tree remains famed
Crimson is the shade it bleeds
While all about it nature breathes
There is sorrow
There is grief
Tears of deepest red it weeps
Yet, never one time does it seep the sap of bittermost defeat
For it is seen by all within its keep

Makes good sense to venture forth
Entertain each train of thought
Pull it taut before cut short
Then let the railway run its course
Force the trauma out of hiding
Court remorseless voices chiding
Listen most intently
To prevent them further feeding frenzy
Find their port of entry
Dare not seal it
Medley may be one-tone but it chaperones to some place way more scenic
Light bleeds into shade
For when the sun rays burn too brightly
Both are famed for righteous reassembly

They wish to see us wide awake
Make us cry a river blindly
Take us to said estuary
Deliver comprehensively through every twinge of pain
Help us feel again
Every sorrow
Every grief
Make us cry
Make us bleed
And give one valid reason to proceed
Let us know when alone
We are never less than seen
Watching over each and every lost soul as we sleep
Dreaming with feeling
Revealing the sense to relentless mystique
There is, in fact, magic within us, you see
I feel it within me
All about me
And through bittermost defeat
Still believe in it devoutly
Reminded me this mad world is not better off without me
That should I court the urge to purge the curdled curd straight out of me
Then I can leave my legacy profoundly

And should I die before I wake
Then these blue eyes of mine shall open wide
Take in the beauty
One last time
As sweetest memento
Of the time I reached Valhalla
And the valour of my plight
Enamored by the sight of distant lights
Those I never ever left behind
Just one leap and blind from being right here by my side
Ever dignified a space and time
Through the never
Never gone
In our presence
Dressed in throng
From Eden back to Avalon
In everlong

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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