Through countless seasons did I slumber-
Behind a guise of untrue qualm.
Thy grail of nectarous wine has been spilled.
Within a frostbitten home, before a settling winter, I awoke alone.
A shortening waistline, through a mirror, she spoke in tongues at bewitching hours.
I fell heir to nothing but fault - a villainous plunderer of half-decade, elder courtship.
For she must bear a puzzle, I hoped, in a frenzied madness.
Some sentence - a skeleton key, to rewind thy pendulum of neglect.
Lost within ocular precipitation, I hunt for the jigsaw piece yet.
Slaving, slaving - for El Dorado is erected beyond the riddle in her heart.
An organ, frozen, though still beating with devotion.
To resume midnight slumber, I swallow thy familiar potion.
To a nightmare, kneeling, shackled on a shoreline as her newborn sails unravel.
Her unyielding hull dexterously separates ice in thy desolate, arctic ocean.
She is consumed by the horizon.
I carry a hanging head.
Again I awaken.
And now, in her absence and shame, I dwell for a lifetime.
Seeking tales of her prosperity and fruitions, by way of grapevine.
Clothed in fatigue, whence yesterday neighbored her and misfortune.
At the elbow of relentless bereavement did she radiate yet, remarkably divine.
And so, may it be rational for her grasp to loosen, thereafter a fortnight.
In the shell of a formerly fortunate gentleman, thy heart stops, cold in moonlight.
Through primeval forests, like a phantom, I flew.
From the distance we kept, pestilence grew.
And in the pursuit of a brighter future, is where I lost a future.
