Phantammeron Book Two – Poetry


As you pass through this lonely world like a fleeting phantom, in the twilight of your life shall a greater truth be known. Though few remember thy gentle face and form, nor cherish thy noble spirit of Love’s purest essence born, upon thy passing shall He alone know thy glory.

The long labor of thy doleful days and the lonesome nights whose shadows cruelly follow shall not have passed away in vain. For the longings of thy youthful heart, though banished long ago by the restless world, He shall bear for you.

For a twilit land barely seen born of childhood dreams was long ago conceived before thy birth. And yet it seems that secret place hath always been, calling to you from some timeless space, singing in ancient rhyme of elder days long past. And yet this tragic hymn born of some sad song yet remains unsung.

Like a lonely nightingale in the depth of night, it called you from garden of delight, crying out with clarion call in the perfumed air where thy richest roses bloomed. But you refused her call. And so in the mist of memory she flew away, until in the fading twilight of thy life, beyond vain memory now be-stilled, you remembered and came seeking her.

In that gray garden long forgotten you shall wait, and yet may think you hear the flap of younger wings or the brilliant cry that once pierced the solemn night. But that bird hath died long ago, its sweet melody long-silenced by life’s embittered strife. Thy youthful dreams will seem but illusions of a past your mind conceived yet sadly never were. But thy weary spirit long deaf to joy shall recall the bird’s sad song until with tearful voice you answer.

But too late the midnight hour shall strike upon the dusty clock when the last ghostly galleon of thine own life must leave for distant shore. Upon the time of your passing shall you then depart, your aged form standing upon Death’s darkened door that opens before a gray and wasteful sea whose callous waves are ever more moaning for what came before.

Its forceful tide shall then wash past thy feet as you stand upon that gray and gloomy beach with but a barren bark for you to board. There before a rocky shore the weeping waves shall ever sweep and sway as they toss away in endless strife, a great ocean waste filled by the last tears of thine own life.

You shall then depart for mysterious lands that lie beyond all lands still unexplored, that solemn place that prophets dream of and dreamers long for. To that Great Beyond that ever beckons shall you then set sail, your lithe and fallen form cleansed of all memory, bound in new raiment beside the Mother’s Three who hold hands in harmony.

You shall pass through endless mist and space until you meet a familiar face upon some spirit-shore. He shall be there waiting to take your hand in his and walk with you through a brighter land, one forbidden and yet forlorn. Its towering shapes shall rise up around you, their shadows bending down upon you, falling freely from ancient trees that sleep beside silvered brooks and gardens of boundless green.

You shall then dwell beside your Creator ever after in this timeless place born of youthful visions long held apart. As a child you shall then roam freely through this twilit land born of dreams, thy form returned to former glory. You shall then be at peace bound to this ancient place conceived of thine own past and vast imaginings, knowing this grand creation was always of thine own spirit made.

Upon the midnight air from a distant hill you shall once again hear the lonely nightingale calling. You shall answer, and she shall fly to you as in a dream.

– the Author

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