You sing to me to leave my regrets
behind, in the shadows cast by
my past, and friends left behind.
The stained glass of your monastery
changes your silver robes to shimmering
rainbows, and you shine with Light, my love.
Your songs fill my dreams
with peace, and pale rose petals
unfurling, these are flowers of hope.
My Love, you have no eyes now
and you lean on me for sight;
even in my own blindness,
I guide you through our home–
you know it perfectly well, but to
lose your sight again cuts deep.
Even in this dream state, I feel your
anguish at something so precious lost;
Blind King, you will see again when you wake.
Light plays across the puzzle you’re
working on, and you laugh as I tease you,
that you’re in Dracula cosplay mode.
This is a place where we are not Kings
we are simply Beloveds, and that is all
that matters, in this moment, this dream.
This is where we’re meant to be,
in the light of the library fire, and
our daughter asleep in our arms.
Sitting in this temple
all the Past weighing down
books like tombstones holding
what had once been life.
Here, my rejected past is chained
my old family of gods forever cycling
through their Past, through their Eternal War
a fight going on and on into Eternity.
With no end to the War in sight, I gaze at the stars,
and wonder what caused all this to happen. Why can’t
the chains of the Past be released, what’s stopping them
from putting down their swords, and living in a way
that welcomes the future? This is only a dream, yet
I can feel the Far Ones eyes on me, the Nine whispering
through the stars, that it is time to let the ancient Past go,
time to step out of the grave of stars, and embrace life again.
I had this Dream last night. It feels Important, so I’m recording it here.
“He needs you.”
His hands rest on the young monk’s shoulders, his voice and gaze intense.
“He needs you. My Husband will be there, my Friend will be there, but he’s going to need you by his side most of all, to handle what’s coming. The Hunt will ride soon, the Festival will happen, and then I will leave. If his mind shatters,” the Dreamer’s voice cracks, for just a second, “you call me–you call me so fast your phone lights on fire.”
Jake nods slowly. “‘I promise to love you when your faith goes silent,’ was something I swore to Varian. He swore that to me,” he motions to his robes, “but it goes both ways.”
“I promise you, on my Heart, that I will be his Light.”
The Dreamer slowly nods.
He picks up a lantern (the candle is already burning,) passing it to Jake, and then the dream fades.
You watch as I descend into
the shattered parts of my mind
you cannot rescue me–and I’ve
been on the other side of this
you as you’ve fallen and tumbled
into memories long past and thought
you push me towards sunlight and stained glass
and sandstone streets, because soon you will be
to go where none can follow (except one other,
and you are bound by your shared Hearts)
I wanted to write joy for you, and instead
my mind keeps screaming and bringing up
of the past, the very thing you asked me not
to dwell upon, for those memories are cracks and
upon my Heart, and I feel as though I am lost
and that my own lantern is just out of reach.
Spring is here, the harvest,
the mountains and valleys
alive with song and fruit.
The light is slowly fading
to the heat of Summer, to the
Festival of Hearts, in which we
gather our loved ones close
for soon the Hunt shall ride
and Love will be our only Light.