it does not do to covet that which would make me less.
I was beget by gods.
but you are broken
exactly
and no mere mortal can survive.
no mere mortal can survive;
this was an accident of fate,
these fragile bones and too pale face.
here heroes fated come to die;
their light extinguished in my eyes.
I am a mortal beggar
with an immortal soul,
awaking every age anon,
memories clouding up the membrane not mine own;
I live each age of this earth to my dying breath
and then when I would walk with Death
she beckons me and hold me close;
she tethers me, keeps me
close to earth.
her fingers, burnt, they smudge my skin,
rekindle fire deep within;
her milky eyes, they drink me in;
her face impassive sheds no tears
but we’ve had years–we have had years.
so many lifetimes pass me by
and all remembered in her eyes;
her touch I touch and ashes, we fall apart.
I’m on the wrong side of the river;
she’s gone away, a silhouette among the damned.
I’m left to rent my hair and weep
and mourn the passing,
not mine.
I would give chase–will give chase
you cannot swim with leaden heart
and drown and wake to breathe again.
my phoenix with a faulty flame.
©HMS G
—
Oh goody, you’ve made to the end. 🙂 I sent this to a friend; she sent me back THIS, said it reminded her of my masterpiece. It’s “The Ride” by Rodolphe Guenoden , a comic which illustrates a man courting Death and Death returning the favor.
Anywho, cheat sheet: plain text = the Lover, italics are Death, bold italics are them speaking together.