I heard a damsel with her lute
reclaim the lost song of the soul;
into the wind she poured each note,
each in pursuit and fleet pursuit
Category: Poetry
It is the world, tonight, that I let go,
when thoughts too far from words burn on my tongue,
and rest’s ache rests upon me here, among
the sundered stars that I shall never know.
One evening bright with blazing cloud
I climbed a rocky crest,
and saw the Phoenix tall and proud
building up his nest.
O daughter of the gently valleyed hills,
where like a child I lie against your breast,
my cares all fled into the utter west,
you give the dew of Hermon for my ills,
that from your heart distills.
Acts 16:16-17
For seven years I walked with demon guides,
divining deathless words for mortal men;
tales of dark wisdom they gave me besides,
draining my soul and filling it again