A Thought about Silverfeather

Sitting in the velvet night, Wondering if my plight is worse than others, I hear a whisper, a thought really, looking down a silver feather falls to the ground.

I peer into the darkness, but nothing is heard, nothing but the quickening beating of my heart. Not rapid yet, but a slow steady uphill climb to what I know not. My breathing slows and as I start to relax, I note that faint fragrance; a wisp of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass. I know that smell, and now my heart quickens again. I lean to pick up the feather, and just as my hand nears the plume, a soft breeze blows it toward the deepening darkness near the edge of the glade.

"What madness is this? What sorcery plays with my very being?" quietly I ask the mute night. Eyes do frantically search, seeking that one thing that brought both sanity and dementia. Shakily I stand and as my eyes, blinded by the liquid night, slowly close, hands reaching toward the very essence of the glades soul. From the very depths of my being, I knew that to which I presently spoke:

"Play me not for the fool, for unwise is the heart. I was but folly's tool and was such from the start. I moved with what was bright and free, and left with naught, not even thee. Spin a web, I surely did, but was caught in fibers that were hid from my own eyes. Trapped and unsure where to roam, the door was locked, no one at home. Pray thee hear my maidens call, for I tell you this, I say it all....Loved you I did beyond my dreams, what was then was what it seems and that only I could heed the call...and only I could take that fall. From heights of heaven's grandest wall, tumbled head over heels and lost it all."

I spoke to no one that could be seen. Twas a vision, a myth, a hope, a dream that caught my ear and stole my heart. No reason was left, madness played the part of my demise. Caught now and in the past the web of my own lies.

Sadly I sat down, pon the dewy grass, a wizened old woman, twas once a lass whose heart did leap and aabound with joy whenever she saw that mythical boy. As I kept my eyes closed tight, for what could there be for me in that night, a whisper a thought did seem to pass, and the feather lifted up from upon the grass. Unseen by me, this plume did drift, catching my cheek, soft and swift. At that moment, my body did quake, a soft spoken poem, the words of Blake pierced the shroud about my mind...a smile did appear....................

~~copyright Stardancerinc 2009