TO THE HAPPY LAND.
A spread of green fragmented lands 1
Appears from down below;
Atop the hillock now he stands
Sun drenched and all aglow.
Transposed by grief for this new land
He dismounts from his mare,
A diamond light o’er his future, fanned,
In this virgin land, untainted, pure and bare.
By those wild excited eyes he sees
A land in which to find
a soul. He falls upon his knees 10
In the heavy heat he shivers as excitement fills his mind.
With sullen force he draws aloft his rustic sword
Holds it still and high, bows his head,
Prays to his chosen Lord,
For this land is surely heaven-fed.
His homage done he sheaths his sword,
Remounts his dedicated steed,
He knows the powers of his Lord,
And bids any foe take heed. 20
Ride on ! Ride through and in, ride on!
To his ideal life he rides
Leaving his tortured memories tied on,
Squeezing life from parental pride.
As tortured memories are washed
His soul is slowly ripped
Of pain, of hate; no longer lost. He has
no purpose, his life’s blood has been sipped.
One single fear remains inside his mind !
That this is but a dream, not real, 30
And should he wake from errant sleep and find
It gone. Then what would he feel?
Yellow oaks in forests deep,
Rivers pink and mountains blue
In great green caves the gentle faeries sleep.
Head down, he gallops through.
As dusk mellows into twilight
He dismounts his ride
His horse is tethered for the night
But in sleep he can’t confide. 40
Darkened lids and weary limbs, to rest for but a while
He lays down his head,
Yet quicker than it takes to smile
He has made the ground his bed.
In sleep contains a drowsy dream,
misty-cloudiness, yet full clear.
Dream land swims through quite serene
neglecting all but fear.
A merry noise invades his dreams
And makes him quickly wake 50
A drum song playing close it seems
Its tempting beatings do make
A person of less self-control
Sit up to grasp the mood.
Its promise to make the listener whole
Ever more be well and good.
A search he undertakes around
Bush, foliage and tree,
To find the master of this sound
There to make frivolity. 60
Through brier and bush he tears the night
Still tired, not quite full whole
He falls into a hazy sight of pastel light
Easily with subtle webs, the music takes control
It soon is found that close by stands
A merry Midget dancing -
Tapping foot and clapping hands
Simply with the night romancing.
Upon his drums of cherry green,
The merry Midget plays 70
A cheerful tune of lands serene
Of faerie nights and faerie days.
The beat so strong has weaved its spell
No futile resistance can he make.
What is real he cannot tell
As his pain the music takes.
He joins the dance, loud, fast and long,
And cries out, “Music-friend -
play your drums with great repose, sing your faerie song,
and let the day ease into night, this music shall not end”.
Dance they did, laugh, sing and dance, 81
Ignoring thoughts forlorn.
Ne’r to repeat a song but once -
They merry made it long !
Wine free flowed, powdered herbs all too.
Care no more, did he, of damsel’s woes,
Or hell-fires to run through.
Together they more herbs did burn, from the embers ‘rose
A pleasant odor in the air -
The scent of heaven’s breath. 90
Drink up my friend and fellow player,” the merry Midget sang;
the night is but a sapling yet, there’s plenty liquid left.
On and on they danced and sang
As merry-made they did;
A healthy laughter soon begun,
limbs no longer act as bid.
Soon the party quelled had been
Rang no more banal banter,
The air smells sweet of lands serene
As they finish the decanter. 100
“Tell me, Lord,” The midget asks, “Are you afraid When into war you go ?”
The lute player frowns, a mite dismayed,
As He sighs long and low.
“I am no liar friend
and now I trust you much -
no wars I’ve fought, no quests I’m sent
no Life’s blood have I as such !
This armor I wear on my back
holds no horrors to be told 110
I am but my father’s boy, alack
A mere fifteen years old.
A season ago I turned and ran
into this new world, my friend.
I am no knight, no warrior man,
I have an empty soul to mend.”
The moment’s truth now fills the air
Tied in knots with smoke.
The merry Midget laughs, with grace and debonair,
Confused, the boy sees not the joke. 120
“I am but a simple runt.” he expounds with honesty.
Merry Midget music man.
“I’ll give you my advice for free,
accept wisely if you can !
I do not hold you in disgust,
for this charade that you present
To mend an empty child-hood you must
find what you represent.
And now I feel that I must sleep
my eyes no longer see 130
but in your vivid nightmares deep,
remember I and I will thee.”
Darkened lids to rest a while,
the boy lays down his head.
Exhausted pleasure begets a smile -
he has made the ground his bed.
Deep he sleeps, safe and sound,
this poor misguided waif,
upon the dank and sodden ground,
he sleeps sound and safe. Eventually. 140
A wet and shiny steaming snout,
is thrust into his face.
his horse has drawn him out,
the boy lies in a daze.
The shadows of the trees up high,
play tricks within the mind
punctuated with a long, low sigh,
Normality is far behind. Slow.
The memories of last night come,
Confused with smoke and wine, 150
A single bee is now a roaring hum,
The boy feels quite unfine.
Perchance I wake, perchance I sleep,
Each other complement
Now I know which crops to reap
I must find what I represent.” 156