The Ghost of Druadian Forest
I have walked in the wake of you for all these centuries
When you thought it was only your shadow.
Here, the moonlight sees to it that you would be safely home
As you walk among the night beasts.
Hear them stir and beat their ivory drums,
Watch the stars dance to its own refrain
Feel the brush of white butterflies against your arms
As you move silently in the maze of sleeping oak trees.
Can you feel the strands of my raven hair brush against your divine face?
You can thank the wind; it only wants to trigger long-forgotten dreams.
I am half-sick of listening to swan songs and caressing cold faces
Only the black owls are my true companions.
They whisper caution when I’m in the company of the living
But temptation always shrouds me with her fiery glow.
Deep into the forest I go,
Midnight strikes against the gleaming white walls
Where my huntsman lies forevermore.
It was he who found the roses for me, buried beneath the forest floor
Hidden among the cracked shells and smooth black stones.
For hours I lay still
Pressing my cheek against his stony face
As I call out his name.
Here dwell the masters of Triumph and Tragedy
Can't you hear their silent screams?
The beating of their heavy wings
Brush against my still worn heart.
Come morning, their battle cries are like ice melting into water
Which seep into my very bones
Releasing harder truths than I can bear.
For a spectre like me,
I'll never have a home to call my own
For this forest, like all good mothers
Hold lost souls (like me) together
Delivering me from evil.
Looking up, I see the moon appearing in the night sky.
I begin to feel my pace quickening.
Off I go again
In search of lost time.