Sometimes I write poetry.
I think it is one of the hardest things to share with others: poetry is somehow excruciatingly personal, and I'm not sure why.
Here is a poem from more than ten years ago.
———
Faery Memory
25 February, 2006.
And so shall I weep for you, faeries?
And so shall I sing your song?
And will all the nations of the earth
Mourn you ere I am gone?
Will kings mourn for your passing?
Will servants tell of you still?
Will the ones who have told of you since time began
Wish to hear of you still?
Shall the voices of proud and of mighty
Be roused in the praise of your reign?
And will all of Adam’s children
Hope to see you among them again?
What has become of you, faeries?
Wherefore have you taken your ‘fair’?
Do you leave us to gloom and to drudg’ry —
To dullness, dreariness, care?
Then go - but let us not forget you.
Let us wonder and dream of you yet.
The glamour is gone, but the memory —
We live on memories yet.
For such is the fate of us humans;
We live in our pasts, mortalwise.
Immortal faeries can forgo their memories;
For all repeats in their eyes.
