A dream in the daytime.
© Broken Foot '06
The fullyear grass grows ankle-high in the Garden of Thought,
where Aries sits alone, with his back against the wind.
Goldturned cypress only just visible in the late evening sun,
place och soil growing with the same rhythm as the mind.
Aries glances: "Is it perhaps time for the uprooting,
our un-planting of heavy word-roots this lovely evening?
The Faun, just stepping into both glade and thought,
regrets his wandering about, at these fateful words.
Speaks: "Only with the strongest iron is the soil turned,
you of any should know that, my horned and haughty friend."
Aries turns his body swiftly, pointing and aiming
with his hand to The Faun, "Then, by all means, start."
"Never by my shaggy legs will I be so exposed, Thornhead!
Your uprooting, your words!" says The Faun.
Aries looks badgered, but admits the assignment as his own:
Says: "In this glade, there are four pillars, weathered white.
If each one of these stands for the greatest things in life,
what should they be, name them all to the end."
By that, The Faun lowers down on his knees, hands in the grass
seeking power in the earth, the black ground of the deruvids.
"If I must choose the four things that life is measured by
and my thoughts of these, then without a doubt, they are:
Truth, Love, Longing and The Child.
Because, Truth cannot hold its Love forever fettered.
And out of Love then comes, after many warm days, Longing.
And that Longing has a name: The Child."
Poetry by Broken Foot
Read 802 times
Written on 2006-07-06 at 00:22
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© Broken Foot '06
Four pillars
The fullyear grass grows ankle-high in the Garden of Thought,
where Aries sits alone, with his back against the wind.
Goldturned cypress only just visible in the late evening sun,
place och soil growing with the same rhythm as the mind.
Aries glances: "Is it perhaps time for the uprooting,
our un-planting of heavy word-roots this lovely evening?
The Faun, just stepping into both glade and thought,
regrets his wandering about, at these fateful words.
Speaks: "Only with the strongest iron is the soil turned,
you of any should know that, my horned and haughty friend."
Aries turns his body swiftly, pointing and aiming
with his hand to The Faun, "Then, by all means, start."
"Never by my shaggy legs will I be so exposed, Thornhead!
Your uprooting, your words!" says The Faun.
Aries looks badgered, but admits the assignment as his own:
Says: "In this glade, there are four pillars, weathered white.
If each one of these stands for the greatest things in life,
what should they be, name them all to the end."
By that, The Faun lowers down on his knees, hands in the grass
seeking power in the earth, the black ground of the deruvids.
"If I must choose the four things that life is measured by
and my thoughts of these, then without a doubt, they are:
Truth, Love, Longing and The Child.
Because, Truth cannot hold its Love forever fettered.
And out of Love then comes, after many warm days, Longing.
And that Longing has a name: The Child."
Poetry by Broken Foot
Read 802 times
Written on 2006-07-06 at 00:22
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
