The forests were fenced in by houses and industry, by commerce encircling


Like the walls of a prison




The forests in the city were relics, a museum pieces, growing in their ancient place


Where the forest has always been, like an alien




The forests was perpetually new, they was green and slender, the old growth was excised


Like a tumor




Making way for the tender branching of youth




I walked beneath the verdant canopy, hidden in the greening leaves, questing for a vision


            The beast of old king Pellinor




I was as wet as new born child, enveloped in the clinging dew of morning, searching


            For the meaning of my birth




I shimmered in the sunlight, refracting in the dew drops, my body’s water


Splintered into rainbows, bursting




The radiant fountain rising in the morning




I climbed to the top of monuments, marble giants, still and silent, cradled in their arms  


I wept with earthbound angels




I dreamt of death in the evening, of the dark and buried kingdom, of slipping into shadow


As certain as the retreating tide




I wandered without purpose, lost in the moment, in the freedom of madness


Blind as Lancelot




Following the waves to the opposite shore




True love endures all things, or so the Apostle said, the grief of the unknown, or the loss


Of what might have been




Pain is not penitential, but love is, and the penance of loving, its agony is restorative


The grail is the return to life




There is no life without love, or the loss of it, we are dust in the shadows


Sparkling in the light 



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