Sunday, May 6, 2012

The Departure

Worn out have you made me from your banter,
And cross have I become, as a lantern
That did fail in the night, did dim the morn;
Now life itself will seem to you forlorn.
Did you not make preparation for storm? 
The night may be cold, but blankets of warm
Wool are found out by those that do so care
To keep themselves from the frost that does bear
Great evil, and keeps them from blessed sleep!
You have not done so, but fallen in deep
Snow you sludge now to seek guidance from me.
Shall you forever stay in this strange dance?
You seek counsel to depart from her bed,
And where would you go now, where else instead?
What would you do when you left from her side?
Would you allow it fill your head with pride?
Is she the cause of all wrongdoing done?
Or have you merely unlawfully won?
Whatever the deed done, it matters not.
What is done is done, and with it is bought
Many a woe that continue for years,
Right down into your dreams where your old fears
Shall haunt you, prevent you sleep, and strew
Your daily task with a hallowed step. So brew
For yourself some tea of the mountain cold,
And if you will drink of the fountain hold!
Then take from me this little staff of white,
Bang on the door of the great fairy sprite!
Beg her put a spell on she you love not,
Ask her to over throw her from above.
Then take your things back, and depart from her,
Take your way, tread on; though you will shiver
From the cold and the deep snow. for you go
Into the dead of night and dread of day
And come no longer back to her, to play.
Shall never again return to these woes
That you have left, but nor shall you end up
In a greater crusade or quest for good
Than the one you have left here in the wood.

                                   The Departure, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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