The wind calls, a worn tale
twisted with the wry smiles of damsels
bemused and the blossoms of enchantment a-plenty
in the hands of knights exalted.
A puzzling air settled about the spectacle,
as the child sought eternity’s ill traveled lane.
Elusive youth caught in vain at her fly-away ardor
And laid bare her fragmented joy.
The silence of the day startled her,
Frivolous and temporal. Of what poisoned lake of
transcendence had she drunk?
Morose and frightened the child grew,
Farther and farther he strayed after a wayward fancy.
Impermanence was the derisive echo of decadence
from the hearth of the abyss and
the nightfall of the heavens.
.
.
.
Eternity and impermanence are interchangeable in the verse.