The moon in his eyes……

Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now. A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

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Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

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Whispers of Scarlet Kisses

 Vampiric Haiku

 “Let not the light of day betray the real love that rules the world” 

 

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When years matter not

And seasons slip by unseen

Then my love I live

 

 

 

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To find another

Of bloodline true and race pure

Tis an old one’s dream

 

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On these shores I dream

Of days gone by and feasts past

And living embraced

 

 

 

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The purest of gifts

Is offered, so drink my love

Two souls bound as one

 

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On the plane of life

I exist in mortal form

Yearning still for Light

 

 

 

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In dying embers

Whispers of scarlet kisses

Bleed upon the land

 

 

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When shadows of time

Creep through the fields of your mind

You will know my kiss

 

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Weaving webs of night

My dream becomes your nightmare

Night and day as one

 

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Freedom i will give

Truths i shall gladly teach thee

Nothing though comes free…

 

 

September 2016

“The keeper of Scrolls”

Not Remembering…

My heart screams

Takes flight

I turn around somehow not quite missing the beat.

I run and run through the forest of my forgotten dreams

Only I have forgotten.

Forgotten you

And how you tasted

How you looked

And how you felt.

The trees here are tall and dark and barren

Yet they live like my heart

Fed on remorse and regret.

How many life times ago was it that I loved you?

How many hearts have beaten and ceased since those days?

How many mortals have lived and died in this realm with out actually living?

I am still running

Just ahead of times tick, tick, ticking.

Running always

For fear of standing still and remembering.

Constantly running in and out of ink-black shadows

Never stopping.

Running in forests where the screeches of startled ravens dissipate upon the winds.

Skin torn

Skin shed

Pain desired

Remembering.

Remembering I loved you

And the taste of ruby kisses so sweet and seductive.

Drip-fed by time’s unceasing march

I dissolve into the pools of my own sadness.

Keep running

Keep hiding

Seek shadows.

Slide into the oblivion of the unknowing

Where ravens cries are the only sounds that leave my lips

And the black blood of night

Is the only truth.

What is known can be unknown

Memories can be reversed

Just like time.

Go back

Back

Way beyond knowing

Way beyond unknowing

To a time of just being

To a time when the earth stood still

And all there was, was the Word

The truth

The all

The Love

The Blood

And You

 

 

 2016

Always of the blood…

The Kiss….

Cursed by a kiss
From centuries gone.
Touched by the hand of love alone.
Holding the rose
So red and so soft,
Clutching at life so wantonly lost.
So fragile the rose
In the hands of the doomed.

So swift the kiss
Smearing the lips.
Fleeting the words
From the bloodstained tongue.

Adrenalin rush
Humanity shattered
I gave
You took
That’s all that matters.

 

Fall back

August 2011

“Whats love got to do with it?”