The Lady Of The Lake
I am a fisherman of the ancient way
It is here I await the return of Patience
Sheltering the undying ember, ever lit by the great tales of the parentless tapestry
Each day and night, set the lure at the bottom of my empty heart
There to dangle only a faith bargain:
O great Lady Of The Lake
Affix and anchor my neck to the feet of your children, severed and split and tangled in knots
In their success, I shall remain nameless
And in failure, shoulder the blame
Seeking the source of the rustling in the dark
The hushed breath of the morning light
The breaking of the waves of pain and glory upon the ever still ocean of infinite bliss
For he who seeks to hear, play the silent song of the disturbed cricket
For he who seeks to see, brush my skin against the canvas of the mad painter
I slip the thread of my vision between the letters of the silver tongued poet
Into the space between the notes of the ancestral dirge
I am at once the scalpel and the hatchet, honing the ever changing edge of the eternal blade
In longing for the end of longing, my false motionlessness stirs the ether wind of the spirit
Light the flame and douse the fire
Unstrike the unwilling match
It is here where Silence began and collapsed eons before the birth of Time.