Love’s Tower

 

Moss-laden grief the stone begets,
And my Lady like a white dove sits
Upon the scarlet seat, weaving me
Among her thoughts of destiny’s

Tapestried labyrinth; a shade follows
My former self, guided by her light;
Her shape to shadows spawning now
Amid a processional awakening finds

Her and I among these lakes and hills
Progressing, our flesh and bone insisting
On this stone life; her enchantments
Grafting us quick as darkness sparks,

Of love strengthening our bonds, pain
Persuading us to sit still under thoughts
Of a green-moon’s labor of time’s quest:
Her call to a higher nourishment below

Resolves us to a measured token broken
Only by desire for crystal solitude, indebted
To the Lady for whom our lives reprieve
Is a blessing and a keeper’s pledge of days,

Where we’ve become both grass and stone;
Our leavings, a web of leaves and dreams,
Winded by the breath that spirits cleave
By the blue crown of her mystery; and, we

The lovers on the vine, the sunken stones
Below the earth that lessen the harsh bonds
To all that we’ve been and are becoming now;
As ensconced dreamers of an azure promise,

Embarking into this maze upon a final journey
To the green climes above this black world,
Where Love’s Tower rises from living waters
Beyond all power and reckoning of Time’s estate.

 – Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.