VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, [3], 4, 5, 6 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 23:29:51 04/08/01 Sun
Author: Builderofty/Tyler Joseph Cusick
Subject: My first gift to this place.

You have a smile given to dreams
The haloed sunstreams falling upon your face
descending in a myriad of shapes
through arches in foilage of soft repose
Here my love where I have sat in expectation
of the honeyed composure in our retreat
Oh then, when there was only what time knew
gathered fitfully upon the guarded eyes
of oaks and waves kissing the cool airs
Hearken love these oaks sing to you
Whispering with barken lips
what in no uncertain sense
as my heart would that it could
impart its endearments truth
.
Rains softly tapped against the arched window, sending beaded echos through the hollow confines of her room. Cassiopia, made dimly aware of this, turned her eyes away from the carefully scripted works to gaze upon the source of distraction. Heavy clouds loomed a deep morning blue, flooding the room with, as she had come to know it, travellers light. With a shudder deep in her lungs, Cassiopia again turned her eyes to the leather bound tome, its weight settled warmly in her lap. As she lovingly
ran her fingers across the letters, their stark black grace a vivid contrast against the yellow pages, she realised he would not approve of her idling so. Time, he would say, is all we truly have, and even so is fleeting. Yet, as she recalled with a reminiscent warmth and light smile gracing her pale lips, we would sit for hours counting the raindrops at this very window. Carefully setting the book aside, Cassiopia stood slowly and walked the few steps from her plush chair to place her fingers, almost
imperceptably, upon the cool glass. As she traced the streams of water down the smooth surface, whispers echoed through her mind, like phantom laughter bidding her rememberance.

It was a day not dissimilar from this one, when they stood hands locked, warm in each others wit and wisdom. He spoke to her softly, in the inspired tones of natural bewonderment. Is it not amazing, he said, this water to which all life is relative? This is the truth of our existance, in a single drop of rain, showing how the true constant in life is it's variable nature. She smiled, kissed him and spoke softly, stating how surely the distance between drops were likening to those of stars. There they would sit, for untold hours, relating the oratory of Aristophanes, the conjecture of Aristotle, or the homesown wisdom of Aeschylus. At times, they would speak untold delights in silence, with nothing but the soulfire in each others eyes to convey sublime understanding of each other.

With a numbed deliberation, Cassiopia removed her fingers from the chill pane, and instead, traced the weary trail of tears down her cheek. Then, half turning from the colors spilling across the clouds now silver vibrance, collapsed. The final sensations she felt before the swell of darkness overcame her were those of unrequited sorrow, that of anguish flaring inside of her like black lightning, and the weight of lungs heavy with tears. The oblivion descended...

It was warm, and brilliant golden light permeated everything.Michael Francis took a moment to appreciate the sunlight and fresh spring air before turning to the text anew. He had found it amidst ancient texts on herblore and legislature, there in the dark confines of the old rectory. What gathered his attentions most about it was the peculiar nature of its binding. Covered in cracked leather, the only evidence of its previous owner was a faded red sigil stamped into the front, seemingly that of Dyke,
ancient muse of joy. Perusing the text was no great feat, for he was trained for years, first by his uncle, then by the abbots and clergymen in such languages of pious disposition. What puzzled him about it was the final entry, for, though the color of the inks belayed the same time, the writing was a stark contrast to the previous, more concise penning. He read over it again and pondered what great malady
could have caused such an alteration of disposition, for besides this single scribbling, the tome was wholly optimistic and lovelorne.
.
You told me time was all we had
while rain danced upon our faces
Now time is all I've left
contained by the sufferances of memory
I remember when you told me
why roses are red
How inconceivable it was
that it would be upon your blood they fed
Oh my love
I've thrown time to the womb
All I may now do
is carry the legacy of your kiss

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Forum timezone: GMT-5
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.