an ocean of a dream
swells in its ebb
the labrynth wells

your wings
your crown
your rule

loss in winter hues
the splinter waves
awash

transmission
touch to touch
location

the tender tome

you ask me!
you ask me just now
and shall write one for you,
as only love does ensue
from the crevices of my heart instantly
and
you can fathom the depth incessantly
at your own free will,
but all love you still,
for the love you give
and
hope you will continue
to read me still,
of course at your own free will.
I’m a naturally born poet,
and know no poetic nuances,
my words flow
out of sheer spontaneity
and
lovers like you
love to swallow
that’s all I know

Canto Nine ~ It has been nearly a week and Gundhag has finally sent the boy back to the battlefield for the young mother’s corpse.
The storm persists as he runs with characteristic speed to obtain her. The man he had imprisoned has escaped him, but as with all things in his chaotic mind he no longer gives thought to it. That a bewildered form of destiny had caused their paths to cross, and with the crossing possible revelation as to his ever hidden reality, has been shelved in the fearful corners of his self taught insanity.

This.
And that you love me.
Even just that you are.

That you see softness and then it is.
That you lay down and I sleep.
That you are happy and so, I am.

You are.
And that you love me.
Like this.