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Amy
Brown's Something Rich and Strange©
please visit her website to view more of her incredible artisity!
Here I sit in candle glow,
the music soft and low.
The flickering flame dances,
it's in a place,
a land, I'll never know.
The warmth, the peace here,
comes to fill my soul.
I'm soothed and drenched in shadows.
The only truth I know.
I own the darkness,
and the darkness owns the night.
And night owns it's own lanterns,
it's own truth and me tonight.
And as usual,
I can't let go.
Can't seem to let this time slip bye.
Can't allow those feelings out tonight,
out to question
and to cry.
Yes, all the reasons why.
And a chill, I can't deny.
But, the chill and fever passes
and though I'm frightened of the dawn.
The haunts seem to linger on.
It's night and it's own magic
which soothes, yet, frightens me the more.
Like brew I've yet, to pour
and echoes still in store.
But, it's here that I belong,
to this and candlelight,
the faltering words, I sometimes write.
Alone with these and nights own song
secrets kept,
amongst the tears,
promises come and met
and gone.
Yes, secrets and the shadows,
yesterdays
and whys-
Always, always whys
and to starve off tomorrow's unpainted skies.
Here I sit in candle glow,
it wasn't always so.
Sometimes I'd write by moonlight
or starlight.
I'd write and never lift my pen.
And yet,
believe,
I might never write again.
I'd write on the pages of the mind.
Such sweet whisperings of mine.
Kissed in mists of night and wind and time.
I'd speak into the darkness
unto, the spirit there.
My poems and my soul, given
and gone out of control.
The words would falter then
again, again, again.
So, it is ever thus,
and ever will it be.
That the heart and depth of me
belongs to these hours,
late at night.
Like the poetry I write,
in her shadows,
dark and deep,
and
all those queries I must keep.
Now, Swept up in her embrace,
like the wounds I bind
and face.
They carry me away,
through the seas of yesterday.
Through winds that howl,
yet, never speak
into mists of dark and deep
Yes, the breadth and breathe of me
is there
both in the stillness and the air.
In the soul, which is the night.
Her half truths and half cast light.
And I am forever there,
watching in the night,
through her passages of flight
feeling both her darkness and despair,
her loneliness and care.
Yes, out there,
somewhere, 'til the dawn,
when the morning sun is born
and all we wish upon
may come to be,
I hope, they too
may yet, come true for me.
January 25, 1982
By
Lady LaMythica
Linda A. Copp
"Sleepy" was composed and performed by Keith Spillman.
To hear more please visit his website, Tunes From The Little Kitchen.
Lady LaMythica, Linda C.
Copp© 1981-2015
all rights reserved worldwide including but not limited to 1981-2015
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