Her eyes were shining bright, with expectations high,
She was swift, gentle, On her face did innocence sparkle.
Happiness was the feeling, which'd flow in her veins,
Excited she was, to the depths of her heart.
She wanted to express, but knew not how,
Every time she thought of speaking, indecision would tell her, "Who'd but like to hear?"
But still, she thought, all my eyes have seen, will be gone with me,
Something I must do, so children of years to come,
'least will know the meaning of beauty!
With coal, I think, she wrote,
And the parchment, old & frayed ... path at the mercy of the wind
Relates a tale, merely, a memory.....
"Will you forgive me (it said),
with the art of playing with words, I've lost my familiarity,
Yet I relate, hoping you'll realize,
that the beauty you may only dream of, is an unforgettable part of my experience,
a part of the reality of the past.
Yes, it was the very soul's purity, as if transformed to reality!
The mountains peep, from the mist of the early morn,
The light of the dawn, gazes at their dignified crests,
The sky is as if an artist's work,
Painted by a hand divine,
Time moves, & and the dark engulfs the world,
As the night falls, bringing, sometimes with it the gentle snow,
The wind moves, no-one tells it where to go,
It has it's own will, & moves with freedom & leisure,
It drags the leaves along, who follow with pleasure.
And yet, and yet, yet
I'll never know if a dream or reality, but a voice nevertheless,
would haunt me through the valleys.
'twas a message so short, And words so curt .... I was terrified
"Oh stranger, Do beware,
Soon, none of this will be there"
The clam of the seas, worked magic on me,
The grace of the breeze, lay in it's mischievous quiet
.
I doubt you can appreciate the intensity of my unconsciousness, so listen,
Even if the soul escaped my body, & my lips silenced,
I should have noticed not!
Ah, the beauty of the dark, I could hardly help but marvel at,
Sleep was annoyed with me, & breath would hardly come!
As I saw, from that small window of mine,
How the stream, gently traced it's way,
And sheer music 'twas to listen to it's gurgling,
A leaf or two, perhaps rustling..
And the voice, yet again,
now gripped with fright,
as if it was gathering all it's might, said,
"Lurking in the future near, is the fate I truly fear,
Not long is thy wait, for the time draws near"
Alas, then I never understood,
but now, after many years since that night,
I get to realize,
My own race, have silenced the gurgling brook & the bird-song,
Have made the trees disappear so there are no leaves that rustle
Have built this & that so the meadow is gone too!
When alive, my voice was drowned in the clank of machines,
Pray, let my soul be in peace,
Much is not that I could do when I lived,
For this I beg your pardon,
But now my strength fails me....
May the grace of the wind, never turn into a gale of horror!
You'll see to it, won't you?"
And leaving a prospect blacker than the black of the coal which she used,
Leaving her wishes & blessings,
Thus the parchment ended.
* * *