...The following is a sort of poem, or dissertation on an understanding of life, written when I was around sixteen years.
. . The Traveler . . Wherein upon a darken road
the path by which the traveler trode
there amongst the guiless snow
Alighten by moonlight�s o�er throw
Lost among the recurring trees
On last breath, and on his knees
He took into him the cold grey night
His death foreseen in by a distant light.
On he slipped into humble death
Absolving life in shallow breaths
His eyes turned to the swollen moon
Knowing death was all too soon.
O� here upon a darken road
Amongst the trees and pallid cold
He met the Maiden in mortal form
Her eyes alight and pale skin warm.
Her hair was gold as the finest thread
On her feet she lightly tread
To gather him up in her grace
She kissed him lightly o�er his face.
�O� little child, O� mortal man�
She whispered light as angels can
�Be now still and close thy eyes,
I�ve come to sever your earthly ties�
And when he gave a mournful sigh
His body quiet in the snow-bank lye
The Maiden took his ghostly hand
To lead him to the spirit�s land.
Away there from the darken road
The Maiden and a spirit trode
Away from a man, dead in the snow
Past the yew in ancient row.
�O� gentle Lady, O� gentle bride,
Whilst you stay here by my side?�
And then she turned her face to him
To him she looked, her lips drawn grim.
�Alas, my love, my belov�d man,
Only to your destiny that I can,
Yet after that you start anew,
But always know my love is true!�
And there he kissed her, his spirit guide
And silent they went, side by side
Through the night and then through light
Until the sun did grant them sight.
By morning in another land
When now the earth was made of sand
She said goodbye, and left his side
For back again, the road she�d ride.
His eyes he closed, deathly tight
To shade him from a radiant light
And there he lay, a new born babe
Early born to greet the day.
Aye, he heard the Maiden say
Whispered in his ear this day
�Yet after this you begin anew,
But always know my love is true!�
�For today for you, my little one,
The sun has risen brightly shone,
And thus shall eternity, it will repeat,
For the human spirit, yet incomplete. . .�
never was � never will be
