The Cry of Tithonus

“Why am I”, asked Tithonus.

My light fades into oblivion, of mind, of sight.

Oh the drudgery of love, Eos! Bless me no more.

I am autumn, and winter, but not spring.

For the blossoms not speaketh unto me.

They lie wilted in my eons, in my eyes.

Eos, where art thine words, of love in life, of life forever.

As ye live amidst Gods, and I amidst death, we are close.

Come unto me, for dawn cometh not, nor doth dusk.

Come unto me, for life paces away, tethered to my bones.

Come unto me, and let us lie, in the Elysian Fields.

For spring is nigh, and so is dawn…

The Parchment

I found you last night, smudged ink in a wet letter

Letters don’t cry, do they? Perhaps they do, but not like you

This letter cried, hiding you amidst the punctuations

Hiding your tears in its own, hiding your words in its own

The letter was in the attic, buried deep in my eyes

I found it floating around, like a hapless leaf

The attic was flooded, did it cry?

I cried, I remember that, my pillow was complaining

I chased the letter, it had my dreams in it

I don’t dream that well these days, like smudged ink in a wet letter

Letters don’t cry, they don’t

My attic does, so do my eyes, where I found you, by my complaining pillow…

The Estranged Son

Throne, oh throne, which has borne,

Thy kingdom, thy kingdom come,

My hand, hand not forlorn,

Tied to thy glory firm;

Stand by, by the stead,

In the stead, the wise taught,

On the throne, where they head,

The feathers of your eyes not caught;

Yet penance is yet to come,

For dusk has befallen thy kingdom,

What the lord taught the wise has lost,

The wise lost, the feathers they caught,

Yet they head in the glorious stead,

To the crown of thy mighty led.