BellsWon't you remember the calling of Their bells?Bells by Taelra
The infinite allure of their resonance stricken
And step backward into darkness unfurling,
The ever reaching, ashen-grey clouds --
Back into your sweet sanctity
wherein shadows, my arms reside open
To embrace you as gently you so drift:
My once enduring, autumnal leaf,
Now sapped of warmth by my winters wrought,
So frail, so cold --
Falling ever from my reach
To heights my arms scream to grasp.
I bide my days in a prison of madness,
Amazed by taunting memories quaint and cruel
And cover with cracked hands
The flickering ember, fated to fade:
The remnant spark of our love.
I cover it with my beaten carapace,
And wail in my insanity unto its fade,
As is the time of Their calling...
I hear the haunting melodies,
I hear Their bells.
A Flight of HeartHer jewels of onyx glint diadem my throne in her eyes yet beheld;A Flight of Heart by Taelra
Her opulent stars to which even tree and stone far below bend before.
I stay to mineself in fleeting shadows neath the solace of her own,
Though durstn't forgo the unmarred dream of her tender wings above.
Claimed at thought not yet misgiven and of own heart now purloined,
From deep within my breast, a most passionate ember I wrest,
And from beneath the passing skies overhead cry out my lay to thee:
"Dear 'Gale, dear 'Gale - your song consumes me so!
Dancing o'er all, with such elegance I cannot neglect,
Nor remove thought from the keepsake of my stilled eyes!
From your sweetest night's call, into dreams I fall lulled;
Benighted within the cast of your soaring shadow quaint.
No more is my voice weighted with song,
Nor, no longer my heart doth throb alone,
But for you, I cry above from the skies 'low
And hope for gazes to rest upon my own
Wherein we may then be as twain...
...For none are e'er more pure,
Prologue: Premonitions of DarknessThe dreary nights, filled with the treacherous terrors of his own mind’s stalking inhabitants looming at every turn, were now frequent recurrences for Garrick: no droplet of rain now fell with such respite as once they did; no one tree appeared green and flourishing as once they were; no heart-warming breeze of the Earth’s soft breaths now offered its comforting pillows of fortitude. Instead, the rains fell like a barrage of unavoidable daggers, laced with Death’s own spiteful bite, which anchored themselves deeply within flesh upon their eager contact and, with each of their consecutive kin to come, drove themselves in farther and farther. The blooming life blessing the plains of Garrick’s reservoirs of memories and dreams lay slain to waste; soiled with darkened despair, the beautiful flowers – the influence and essence of his love – had grown confused and violent, erupting into wrathful fits of malevolence, striking at his lost and wandering feetPrologue: Premonitions of Darkness by Taelra