an epic poem
co-written w|Zach (http://memnochcity.tumblr.com/)
If goddesses could fly, I'd demand your company tonight. But no, they walk upon ancient streets, casting their thoughts, like sesame seeds, to the populace of Paris.
If kings could leave their throne without sacrificing their kingdom, I'd summon you to venture off into mine. But as their reign over their territory is dependant upon their absence from me, I sacrifice my treasure so that you can have your own.
You speak of venturing, I speak of flight. Lo and Behold if you're caught in the night, then can my armies rest while my sight is blessed. It is true that many tried to journey the mountain, but you always knew the path to me best.
My king, ours is the story told generations ago of a love that surpassed all odds. I will mount if you will come and together we can create our destiny.
Yes, I heard a story told once before. The troubadour ran off, but I wanted more. I searched the kingdom high and low, and found the pool where your worshippers go. I saw your face make life out of stone, and knew then and there that you were my own.
Worlds clash and oceans flee upon feeling the climatic decree that is our ensemble. Apart we conceive new mysteries and future prodigies; together we give them life.
Your arms are hot and I feel the brand as they pull me from this somber land. Such heights. Such clouded highs I will know? If what you say is true, and I do believe it's true, I will go with you. But what do I leave behind? This earth is poor and though my heart is sore, on this patch, here I must stand. To be a King, to warm a throne- A root I am in this land.
And goddess, I, must reign likewise. A choice to make: nurture the land already our own, or create anew a separate one? A choice, 'tis true, but ours to make? Let's take the night, then separate.
Then come, come quick. Press your breast against mine, let hand meet hand, and lip part lip, together our breath travels the winds of time. But wait! A boot step, a sword drawn near! The enemy is here. You must away, take heed, don't stray. These men know nothing of the heavenly sort. I will stay here and defend this bed... I will have my night with you if it leaves me dead. Now go!
I go for now, our moment postponed but not lost nor forgotten. To return to you soon, to commence what we must- fabricate our fate yet begotten. Before I depart an I love you does the same from my mouth. Until time permits, I guide my people and sit, awaiting my trip to your kingdom down south.
A kiss, an embrace, one final caress and he watched as her figure disappeared from her dress. The king, bound to earth, still stunned but alert, knelt down to protect the sacred garment from dirt. The boots began to thunder, and the door began to shake. He stepped to his wardrobe, and donned silver chain of the finest make. He reached for his blade, and his horn, too. He flung wide the doors, they hadn't a clue. This king fought like a demon... but the goddess knew different. She watched from afar; heard his horn sing and his war-metal ring. He fought like a lover, not a soldier near the bed could stand, before he cut them down, shouting her name: the Spirit of the Land.
She smiled upon him knowing his deed, graced him with her presence, heard his cry and took heed. And as one final gesture before leaving for good, she left him a message only he understood:
a final remark I don you, my king
of lilies and sunsets and humid, wet springs
of fertile land and lived fantasies
and treasures discovered, brought in from the sea
the realization of you in me
all to us the future brings
With that she departs, in spirit, but not heart, until the next time each the other does see.
co-written w|Zach (http://memnochcity.tumblr.com/)
If goddesses could fly, I'd demand your company tonight. But no, they walk upon ancient streets, casting their thoughts, like sesame seeds, to the populace of Paris.
If kings could leave their throne without sacrificing their kingdom, I'd summon you to venture off into mine. But as their reign over their territory is dependant upon their absence from me, I sacrifice my treasure so that you can have your own.
You speak of venturing, I speak of flight. Lo and Behold if you're caught in the night, then can my armies rest while my sight is blessed. It is true that many tried to journey the mountain, but you always knew the path to me best.
My king, ours is the story told generations ago of a love that surpassed all odds. I will mount if you will come and together we can create our destiny.
Yes, I heard a story told once before. The troubadour ran off, but I wanted more. I searched the kingdom high and low, and found the pool where your worshippers go. I saw your face make life out of stone, and knew then and there that you were my own.
Worlds clash and oceans flee upon feeling the climatic decree that is our ensemble. Apart we conceive new mysteries and future prodigies; together we give them life.
Your arms are hot and I feel the brand as they pull me from this somber land. Such heights. Such clouded highs I will know? If what you say is true, and I do believe it's true, I will go with you. But what do I leave behind? This earth is poor and though my heart is sore, on this patch, here I must stand. To be a King, to warm a throne- A root I am in this land.
And goddess, I, must reign likewise. A choice to make: nurture the land already our own, or create anew a separate one? A choice, 'tis true, but ours to make? Let's take the night, then separate.
Then come, come quick. Press your breast against mine, let hand meet hand, and lip part lip, together our breath travels the winds of time. But wait! A boot step, a sword drawn near! The enemy is here. You must away, take heed, don't stray. These men know nothing of the heavenly sort. I will stay here and defend this bed... I will have my night with you if it leaves me dead. Now go!
I go for now, our moment postponed but not lost nor forgotten. To return to you soon, to commence what we must- fabricate our fate yet begotten. Before I depart an I love you does the same from my mouth. Until time permits, I guide my people and sit, awaiting my trip to your kingdom down south.
A kiss, an embrace, one final caress and he watched as her figure disappeared from her dress. The king, bound to earth, still stunned but alert, knelt down to protect the sacred garment from dirt. The boots began to thunder, and the door began to shake. He stepped to his wardrobe, and donned silver chain of the finest make. He reached for his blade, and his horn, too. He flung wide the doors, they hadn't a clue. This king fought like a demon... but the goddess knew different. She watched from afar; heard his horn sing and his war-metal ring. He fought like a lover, not a soldier near the bed could stand, before he cut them down, shouting her name: the Spirit of the Land.
She smiled upon him knowing his deed, graced him with her presence, heard his cry and took heed. And as one final gesture before leaving for good, she left him a message only he understood:
a final remark I don you, my king
of lilies and sunsets and humid, wet springs
of fertile land and lived fantasies
and treasures discovered, brought in from the sea
the realization of you in me
all to us the future brings
With that she departs, in spirit, but not heart, until the next time each the other does see.
