Summer has passed with its extravagance into the fickle winds of autumn, and so the years slip by with the seasons. Once she was beautiful. Millennia have erased her gentle form from the codebook of excellence, turned her softness to stone, buried her dreams beneath unmarked headstones.
How change pursues her!
I see you pass into the twilight, hopes trailing behind as you run, run, run, always on the verge of falling. I see you look into the past, your childhood dreams demanding to know why you have not fulfilled them. I see you pause, look over your shoulder at me. And now you’re coming near, reaching out, touching your fingertips to the cold glass as you stare at me through a mirror.
How change pursues you!
shadow smeared soft along the path,
she was beautiful once, two thousand years ago.
she, glistening lady of stone
gazes across the flowering gardens,
so cold and full of moonlit grace, and
her shoulders bow like great curved wings
cascading like forsaken dreams.
pale fingers strung with cobweb thread,
a living vine, untasted wine
twists about her regal form,
clings to stony folds draped soft about
her waist, her arms, her graceful neck,
shrouds her from the rising gloom
that slips along the path.
“for naught,” marble lips stilled
by the wayward plea of the prodigal,
by the frozen shock of lunar revelation:
she but the craft of another’s will,
a glimmer in the shade.