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A strange lady of the night
Tripping back and forth at ease
With nature's gloomy scene
No troubles on the placid screen or mask.
"Consciousness is the continent of love"
She says, idly watching rising moon
"Life is but a dream of love"
Lifting of her skirt that trails.
Lovely woman of l'amour?
Or questionable virtue or grace?
The eyes enticing, strange, so dark
The night is but her shadow on the moon.
Lovely woman of l'amour
Why laugh and play so gay
Know not there lives within ourselves
A dark and sordid beast?
Not so, for throughout
The wild and jagged slopes
Live certain strains of din
That shake within and smooth
Without. So let it be
That lovely uses shape their own
And you, lonely traveller
Shall sing in doubt
Of Kilimanjaro.
A moment wasted never more returns
And tasks done well are rare
And burdensome.
But on this night I care
But little for the best
And small I make of wind
That’s raging, vagabond
About our nestling perch.
Judge not harshly, nor in anger,
For I am but a man in search
Of what I am,
And where I go.
How I love you’ll never know.
You know not why I turn away,
It’s not as seems,
I’m well aware
You’re but inches from my side.
Shall I, deferentially, try
To please in everything I do,
Unnatural,
Although harmless
As a painting on the wall?
I must be me, and yet it hurts
To be seen in this sordid light.
Let me but ask
“Do you love me?”
Eternity is then tomorrow.
Damsel, weep not.
I know you’re there.
If I but knew your thoughts,
In this instant,
Of the quaking earth around the flaming fire.
Without a name I met you in the green,
I lost my sense, I told you I was me.
No matter now.
I kneeled and whispered to the night,
Against the stars its useless that one fight.
I love Madame; I saw her once
With hair down in the breeze,
And all her stars and bells, they waved
And tinkled merrily.
I saw her once again, quite soon
And found her in a daze.
She saw the air, its shaking quake
And told the story well.
I saw her once again, once more,
And knew it was a dream,
For things that leave us softly ill
Are not reality.
Woman, your beauty is a soul.
Your troubled eyes ponder
All around.
I cannot reprove you
If you cast your love away
For life is not a game
You once were simple
But now, because your beauty shows,
The world is at your feet.
You’re troubled, there’s no doubt,
Though taking pleasure is easy.
You are not corrupted,
But you cannot withstand the will
And the way of the world.
What will you turn to be?
“I haven’t even done it” she said
As if the world were waiting.
All rolled up, the over-question
“Is it done” Oh, no.
The question isn’t even asked
And time shall roll it under dust
Until even I won’t recognize
“I haven’t even done it”
And time rolls on downhill
Further in escape and imprison
Me in my yesterdays.
Damsel, serene nights
Are not conducive to you
In my thoughts. Tonight,
Serene reflections cast doubt
Upon your perfect visage
Marring unserene wake
Of emotions with placid
Thought-shells.
Perhaps the future will bring
A hope, renewal
Of a love unrequited
But real, strong
And uncontrolled.
Shall one so lovely in a day
Reject the winds of healing grace?
Can patterned motion, love’s caress
Seal up inside a cocoon’s nest?
Can beauty die, in coldness still
A corpse in silence of repose?
Can breathing cease, the chest be numb
A swollen hole of emptiness?
Unreachable star!
The all in all.
Nought else can suffice.
In this instant,
Still can I see your shadow
And touch the hem of your skirt
Failure is exalted
To the all in all.
Together we could glide into oblivion
And drown our sorrows with the wine of failure.
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