D'Arc

My only love!
The slender-necked maids about you grow pale
And the sun withers the tall reeds in the water.
The muddy wood humming with little life
bears the soft feet of a messenger –
Hear the just-met words,
Uttered by easy need and weighted by care
like a crown of green leaves
on the determined brow of grinning youth.

My only love!
How swiftly light and darkness grow mingled!
And the sun withers the tall reeds in the water.
Or is it the radiant image you turned on them,
the burning gaze and searing cries
so violently thrown ablaze into sorrow
(a petty kind of rain)?
Once kindled, such flames seldom last.
And we are told this is a mercy,
That such fires would catch the whole world
if left unchecked, alive.
But how I quake at these words, just-met!
Ah, how my soul smolders of late,
a hiding pit of quick heat
soon to find its release
in anger and in joy and in justice
(a powerful kind of reign).

My only love!
Though yours be newly extinguished,
my present storm the sun’s rival
builds to perfect end.

And my fire ignites the tall reeds in the water.

D'Arc

candidenuts

Little Rock, United States

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