[Eadha Deora]

The depths I used to swim
are turned too shallow to dive;
The dreams I used to sing
are no longer high enough to fly.

The inkwell is broken, words spilled on the page,
as even my own thoughts riot to be heard,
flowing out beyond the confines of old life,
a stained metaphor for dreams
no longer justice enough to beauty's truth.

The rim of my inner cup is cracked, that
hedge of comfort so carefully tended now cut down by passion:
over-filled, I can no longer hold the world to myself so that
safety is no longer the hidden desire of my heart.

My bones like shells clack together, the Goose of Creation
sounding out an infinite longing:
be born! BE BORN!

Somehow, in the short summer nights
when sleep was sweet to the soul,
I found a courage never held before,
spreading its plumes, awakening with a roar,
wild mane of red shaking in the air,
released! unleashed! ... no longer caged to fear

Leaping over the ancient mountains,
no longer unattainable peaks, even this love so softly
given, slips down into the valleys, feeding at the roots of joy.

One great shout, breath of the gods,
mere bones and clay no longer,
enspirited now I am, absolute in my knowledge:

there is 'no longer' anymore!

[Vorcla]

What is it that Lubesh always says? Epic? Well, that's what this is. Nicely done, Jenn. There are really some incredible images in here, and great descriptors. I like the repeated motif of 'no longer,' too. Ties everything together.

Damned fine, hun.

[Lubesh]

This read much 'softer' and flowy very delicate and yet has the earthy quality we r used to seeing....yes epic..another.