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Oh, wisest of my kin,
Tell me what is left for us!
Sing the words you can recall
Of our comfort-hymn tonight.

Petals - do you know them? -
The silken words of summer:
Cloaks for the small green soldiers
Who hide our cares away.

Sharp zephyrs of the moon,
Why do you steal our covers
And bear our little roofs off,
Exposing our skin to rain?

Oh, mages of the woods,
Conduct the queen's desires!
Chant in the night to the stars,
Our sky-eyed brothers, for aid

To hold out the sea-storm
Until the last red crystal
Passes out from her veins
Back to soft currents and tides.

Dear wisest of my kin,
Tell me what the window sees!
Sing its visions in the tune
Of our comfort-hymn tonight.
©2008-2009 =Mizu-dragon
:iconmizu-dragon:

Author's Comments

I hadn't posted my poetry in a while, so I figured I would rectify that.

Words spurred by loneliness - to be more specific, a sort of feeling of abandonment, although there is no one in particular I blame for that but me. However, I am also relieved that my words have not left me, as I feared. But it is late at the time of posting, and I am rambling.

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July 19, 2008
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