In the Hall of the Mountain Queen(Mar 2019)
The horizontal sun always Does paint the shattered world better Than it was done. On that high peak Your tempest whirled, and fractals froze And formed a queendom fit for one. In that now lifting storm, what thought you, As you there beheld your magic's Mature form? Were those by its glory Withheld: that door, that knock, that voice, Which frozen hearts could warm? You'd call this the sole choice. Perhaps The price of love is pain, the more pain More the joy. Yet, see - through this Frost-bit domain! - that painѐd love Still runs, nor pain nor love will foil. *This is when the idea for the "Queendom of the Crocus" first came to me.
0 Comments
|
ArchivesCategories
All
|