Ah! A poem. I haven't written a poem in a long time.
The following is split into three portions, but the portions are meant, in some odd and wondering way, to be read together.
...
I have a story to tell
I have a story to tell
It talks of many things
They were once whispered in the hollows
And in the early Autumn leaves
Nothing lives like once before
A life of good and grace
A life of non-abhor
The era of longlivity
Was long lived certainly not
But though time my weather and grind
This time time never forgot
There once was a maiden
Her voice a sweet harp
And in the forest glade of Nilthrein she played her tunes
Beneath the suns and stars and moons
The words they melted into air
And the sky himself opened his stony face
To hear the sound of song
The sound of heaven in leafy space
She wished to leave the forest glade
The glade of emerald seas
Because secretly she longed inside
To touch the ocean breeze
For ten hundred years the sailors would tell
Of the maiden in the jaded wood
And they spoke of her beauty with words
And the song that none understood
Indeed, she sang of longing
Though she spoke in words not plain
For though she was trapping inside her prison
She only masked her pain
The world was a window
A window to high through which to see
And stuck she was in her forest hold
Far from the western sea
...
There once was a jackalope
There once was a jackalope
He came from a mountain plain
The world was his for the taking
And a traveler he became
He saw the greatest giants
Who dwelt in northern caves
And caverns very far beneath
The deepest ocean waves
He saw many other miracles
And touched the sands of time
He walked the blizzard of Grithem
And sauntered through seas of Celandine
The lightning at The Cornerstone
Struck fear into him not
And before long he was a learned fellow
By the world shaped, shifted, and taught
But after all his adventures
Through the storm and the heat of it all
A sadness in his heart was deepened
And a secret of despair his to befall
The days of his worldly wandering
Paid off little to none
And still he was searching for something more
Just as on the day his search had begun
...
And now I come to my conclusion
And now I come to my conclusion
Which lacks conclusion to say the least
But the conclusion is yours for the taking
If you can take it from beast
He lives in the darkest depths of your mind
And lurks in the shadowy waves of time
His lie is bought more often then not
And it's your conclusion he longs to haunt
For he is a sorry end to a promising life
And life that was wasted on outward things
A life that was spent in a cage of "What-ifs?"
And a life that was not spent catching dreams
