The Dream - Part Ii (The Specter)
It seemed like a long time ago
by Sergio D'Amico
that I felt through a cloud blow
a chill to calm the day's decline
as I sat to sip a cup of wine.
The footsteps of the night
approached and scared the light,
crowning this evening with ebony
anticipating a tale of tragedy.
It was at the end of this day
that I heard in a whisper say
about a house surrounded by a rocky ground
and flowers towering all around.
It stood at the top of the hill
by a lake and it's quenching fill,
Yet in this dark night
the stars shone more bright
and a figure descended from above,
only described as a spirit of love.
A figure covered in a veil of light
(dressed in white)
a specter carved from moonlight
and the stars seemed to cede their might
as she appeared to shine more bright.
I recalled in this nightly hour
of simple gestures and heightened power,
a life filled with more than one borrowed dream
shared amongst the stars and the hope they beam,
with sentiments and their tight clasp
only late in life can one truly grasp.
I pledged to follow her into the dawn
through a field with footsteps worn
none of which belonged to her
for with grace she floated in the air.
I stood like a hungry child
on the verge of running wild
a curiosity which knew no bounds
chasing across foot worn grounds.
I arrived at a place of drifting time
where history is forced to rhyme,
by the house of prismed colours,
surrounded by towering flowers.
A marriage of streak light and roaring thunder,
followed by grim silence and sweet slumber,
an invitation to the kingdom of death,
often refused until after the last breath.
On a grave stone a carving I read,
as I stopped to catch my breath
'Here lived she,
She was our friend,
We gave her all
but she wanted more
so she fled to a distant land'
A shadow wrought upon the ground
with clouds swirling all around,
interludes which bear their seal
now resurrect for me to feel
memories that surface from the abyss
exposing a much long forgotten bliss.
And now a veil is lifted
and memories that once drifted
escape from the chambers of time
returning as ripples with every tear
that drops into this cup of wine.
Yet No wine is enough to make them vanish
and Time is always powerless to banish
for the shadows shall always loom
long after the touch of doom.
I found myself inside the house,
through memories i sift and browse
and there I see a portrait on a wall
exposed to be seen by all
created by somebody I might know
a long long time ago,
and anything beyond the last goodbye
will only exist in the form of a lie.
The portrait had a soul
and how was I to know
that here I was born,
here my soul was torn?
Hope is born from a long wait,
forever framed in this portrait
and in this painting I see a child
with eyes beautifully styled.
Candles each holding a flaming tongue
speak about songs yet unsung,
and their incense I inhale,
as the specter lifts her veil.
One gaze in the specter's eye
helped restore my sight.
This face which I recognized
left me startled and paralyzed
but then she spoke,
and yes she spoke,
who cares of what will be
if today you are not free?
who cares about tomorrows bread
if you were to wake up dead?
Was this path carved by your heart,
or did you make misery a form of art?
enjoy today's moments
think not about tomorrow's torments
This figure carved from the moonlight
now ceding back her light
as the stars regained their might,
a signature wrought into the night.
Who should consider why and how
Sentiments charge a fevered brow?
When one night many years ago
a dream, which now you know,
came to visit my sleep,
Resurfacing feelings from the deep.
If I held them with a tighter grasp,
would I have been able
to hold them in my clasp?
It was the morning after,
that the birds sang with laughter
anticipating the morning song
and a day that is too long,
and the stars took a ride
on top of the morning tide,
As the specter was now gone
to a place I might have known
but that is another tale, another dream
which the stars and the moon shall beam.