Wednesday, February 4, 2015


[From: "The Lost Writings of C. James Gwyllyn"]

I would bring her fair dreams in waking life,
and smooth her white and furled brow
in every discouragement and strife,
her deepest nights with stars endow.

But her world pirouettes in distant space,
en pointe above these stranger-eyes,
resplendent, arrayed with light and grace,
a noon-sun in these fading skies.

And I, a fratello she never has met,
a comrade fated to be unknown,
behold in wonder the red sunset,
having truly loved, and loved alone.

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