In the black tavern of
sorrows we knelt
On seats of wonder and
bewilderment
Though, in the
darkness we could not see,
Yet we found our way
to fill our casks,
That we may forget
where we are.
In one night, a new
guest arrives
A lady with fire in
her hand
She smelt like the
running water of clear rivers
And stood among us, as
if awaiting the attention of all souls,
All whilst holding a
fire that lit our dark cavern
We could not know who
she was, nor did our minds grasp the words she said
However, our eyes did
what they were born to do.
They gazed.
She spoke of things we
did not know,
She spoke of dreams,
of aspiration, of
people,
of Love
We feared what she
said, but I stood up and shouted
“You speak of what we
can never see, what will never be”
And she gazed upon my
eyes, that were made for her
She said “Yet it is
here”
And the fire she held
in her hand kept burning
I stood angrily
Walking toward this
lady of light,
My wonder and
bewilderment ran away
Her voice became noise
Her smell soot
She threatened my
despair,
My darkness
And eyes turned to me
So I put my hand in
the fire
And it was no more.
And she never went
