singerofdark

bye bye blackbird

its a strange line
for to say good-bye
but in the right place
to the right person
it goes heart deep

it is a strange country
the land of tears
you can only reach
so far into another's

it is the twilight
the transformation
where great joy
becomes deep sorrow
because of the joy that was
and is no more

so for a moment
if you will
remember your twilight story
the one that means the most
raise a glass
shatter it if you will
and be glad that it was

there is a sign
or a series of signs
that invite and warn

be bold
be bold
but not so bold
lest your blood it runs cold
courtesy of one mr fox

and elsewhere there
is a key and a room
that one is not supposed
to go into

well it is one of
many such rooms
warnings not to follow
with death as the price
if one dares to seek

sometimes with death
as the price
if one does not

in the shifting tides
of the night
the lines that keep one
safe get blurred
more than a little

nothing is certain
seeking might kill one
not seeking might
sometimes
the monsters are hard
to spot

it was not so
it were not so
and god forfend
it should be so

but the key is stained
past all mending
as the horror comes
crashing down
and its time
to test your exit plan

she waited at the crossroads
at night
waiting and hoping
knowing he would come
he had to come down
that path that night

but he would not come
alone

she had lost him once
had him taken away from her
and as she loved him
as he in turn
loved her
she wanted him back

but it was never
just that simple

he belonged to
someone else now
one that would not
easily let him go
to return to his heart

so she waited
for his horse
waited to hold him tight
no matter what form
he might be given
to hold on to him tight
to win him back again

before the story
is this moment of
waiting alone in the night
for him to come
along a path

in the distance
comes the sound
of horses
that will bring him to her
and bring her
into a contest
with she that owns him

that is coming
this fleeting silence
is now

the cup fills
swiftly so swiftly
the venom is emptied from the cup
then held back under
to catch the venom
that ever falls

but each moment
is too long
for there is a face
to catch the venom
if the cup does not

thus she is remembered
this moment
this part of the tale
holding a cup
then emptying it

is she looking forwards
is she looking back
is she in this moment
looking at a need
that never ends

sometime down the road
this task will end
her husband will come free
and something dark will come

the cup fills again
curses are heard
as she empties the cup
til she brings it
back so swiftly
that there must be love
in tales only she
now remembers

the seven sisters danced
across the sky
so many stories cast
in their wake

but ever as they danced
or flew unto the sky
seeking refuge there
they were sisters fair
and so they danced
and sang and flew

time after time
people looked up
into the night sky
and found a story to tell
about them
these seven sisters
who tracked across the sky

so they looked up
sat down around the fire
and told the story
to explain the seven dancers
the sisters in the sky

as if that cluster
that grouping of stars
needed to be explained somehow
with many stories
to tell them unto beauty
and grace

each night began
with a story
carried on to hold
death at bay

each night
the story was unfinished
or if one ended
a new one took its place
night after night she told
stories to buy her days

elsewhere
not so far a way
another woman sits at a loom
unweaving what she did
during the day
night work to buy
another day to not choose

weaving word and thread
weft and warp merging
stories flowing across the loom
shuttled back and forth
as the heroes fortune's ebbed and flowed
sometimes the victor
sometimes with all coming undone

their lives mirrored
in a weaving that was never
meant to be finished
so a choice would not be made

while each night she told
another story of their days
stretching a night
into another day and another

these weavers share this also
their night work
kept their days flowing
to the fulfilment of their aim