Presented here are selections from
Sonnets, part two
by Irilin Duskwhisper
taken from the original manuscript
donated to The Royal Library by the author
~~~
A single leaf upon a tree, within
The everlasting autumn of these woods
I call my native land, can just begin
To bring about comparisons to goods
And evils I have lived through. Like this leaf,
Enshrined in state of change, so too, am I
Entrapped in evolution from the brief
Idyllic life I had, to that which nigh
Has leapt upon me. Notice, though, despite
The constant state of change, we do not die.
We persevere--nay, thrive!--although one might
Expect a quiet fall that makes us lie
Upon the ground. A change of colour will
Not change the course of fortune we fulfill.
~~~
It seems there is but one elixir which
Can heal all wounds, and slowly dull away
The pains of life. This curative for rich
And poor alike is powerful. Dismay
Engulfs my heart, to know that such a cure
Is nothing more than potent love. I've seen
It ease the pain of burns, replace with pure
Tranquility the troubles of the mean,
Self-loathing mind. But, none have I to aid
My silent voice, to life me from this pit
Of melancholy I inhabit. Laid
Across the well, the bridge of love might fit...
If only such a love would find its way
To me, I might no longer roam astray.
~~~
The words upon this wrinkled page are all
I have to reach the outside world. And yet,
My words, my power, often seem to fall
Upon the eyes of those who do not let
Their orbs observe. The wealth of that which stays
Behind the dam which stems my tide of sound
May never come to light. At least, in ways
In which some recognition might be found.
The long endeavours that I try to share
With those around sit mostly catching red,
Unloving dust. For most find nothing there
To catch their dull imagination. Lead
To think that no one wants to hear, I find
Myself more mute, and hide within my mind.
~~~
The world has seen me little lately, though
I do not think it's noticed. Looking back
Upon these past few months, I do not know
Where I have been, or where I go. The black,
Engulfing shadow of the time which is
Not now looms over me, Nozdormu's great
Eclipsing shadow. What desire but his
Could cause it? Now, the hour grows late,
And I am left to blindly search for who
I am and who I'll be, as though my eyes
Were useless as my voice. I must get through
These times to see the light of eastern skies
Emerge from out these clouds. Alone. For none
But I can make my eyes regard the sun.
~~~
May light embrace your love. May happiness
Pursue you to the ends of time and space.
May what you find be what you need, and bless
Your wants as well. May solace find a place
In both your lives, for well you two deserve
That much. May famine, war, disaster, hate,
And tragedy be banished. May the curve
Of roads you travel be so slight, that late
The time will wax before you lose the sight
Of it. May harmony entwine about
Your love and lives. May marriage be the height
From which you further climb. May no one doubt
That here, two spirits join, and so will run
Together always, underneath the sun.
~~~
A page is but a window into past
Events and unencountered futures. books
Are but a house of windows, walls of vast
And varied scenes. Each portal overlooks
A veritable garden of distinct
Arrangements, based on facts or fantasies.
What thrill could come from seeing how they're linked
Together? Tomes of magic, recipes,
Recountings of adventures--all the wealth
Of knowledge in the world! There must be some
Way I can help the world dispell the stealth
With which this information hides. I'll come
To be the one to help the people find
This information; guide, and learn in kind.
~~~
The moonlight falls across and through the panes
of glass that make the dome above. It falls
Upon unending rows of tomes, remains
Of extant knowledge, lining all the walls.
He searches spines as though the thing he seeks
Is hidden in some volume, even though
He knows it's not. But still, he looks. His cheeks
are flush with effort. He must surely know
That he won't find it. Not in here. But since
It was last taken from him, nowhere yet
Has yielded more success. If you convince
Yourself that love is not about, you get
To the conclusion that you'll find it in
A book, a memory...He cannot win.
Sonnets, part two
by Irilin Duskwhisper
taken from the original manuscript
donated to The Royal Library by the author
~~~
A single leaf upon a tree, within
The everlasting autumn of these woods
I call my native land, can just begin
To bring about comparisons to goods
And evils I have lived through. Like this leaf,
Enshrined in state of change, so too, am I
Entrapped in evolution from the brief
Idyllic life I had, to that which nigh
Has leapt upon me. Notice, though, despite
The constant state of change, we do not die.
We persevere--nay, thrive!--although one might
Expect a quiet fall that makes us lie
Upon the ground. A change of colour will
Not change the course of fortune we fulfill.
~~~
It seems there is but one elixir which
Can heal all wounds, and slowly dull away
The pains of life. This curative for rich
And poor alike is powerful. Dismay
Engulfs my heart, to know that such a cure
Is nothing more than potent love. I've seen
It ease the pain of burns, replace with pure
Tranquility the troubles of the mean,
Self-loathing mind. But, none have I to aid
My silent voice, to life me from this pit
Of melancholy I inhabit. Laid
Across the well, the bridge of love might fit...
If only such a love would find its way
To me, I might no longer roam astray.
~~~
The words upon this wrinkled page are all
I have to reach the outside world. And yet,
My words, my power, often seem to fall
Upon the eyes of those who do not let
Their orbs observe. The wealth of that which stays
Behind the dam which stems my tide of sound
May never come to light. At least, in ways
In which some recognition might be found.
The long endeavours that I try to share
With those around sit mostly catching red,
Unloving dust. For most find nothing there
To catch their dull imagination. Lead
To think that no one wants to hear, I find
Myself more mute, and hide within my mind.
~~~
The world has seen me little lately, though
I do not think it's noticed. Looking back
Upon these past few months, I do not know
Where I have been, or where I go. The black,
Engulfing shadow of the time which is
Not now looms over me, Nozdormu's great
Eclipsing shadow. What desire but his
Could cause it? Now, the hour grows late,
And I am left to blindly search for who
I am and who I'll be, as though my eyes
Were useless as my voice. I must get through
These times to see the light of eastern skies
Emerge from out these clouds. Alone. For none
But I can make my eyes regard the sun.
~~~
May light embrace your love. May happiness
Pursue you to the ends of time and space.
May what you find be what you need, and bless
Your wants as well. May solace find a place
In both your lives, for well you two deserve
That much. May famine, war, disaster, hate,
And tragedy be banished. May the curve
Of roads you travel be so slight, that late
The time will wax before you lose the sight
Of it. May harmony entwine about
Your love and lives. May marriage be the height
From which you further climb. May no one doubt
That here, two spirits join, and so will run
Together always, underneath the sun.
~~~
A page is but a window into past
Events and unencountered futures. books
Are but a house of windows, walls of vast
And varied scenes. Each portal overlooks
A veritable garden of distinct
Arrangements, based on facts or fantasies.
What thrill could come from seeing how they're linked
Together? Tomes of magic, recipes,
Recountings of adventures--all the wealth
Of knowledge in the world! There must be some
Way I can help the world dispell the stealth
With which this information hides. I'll come
To be the one to help the people find
This information; guide, and learn in kind.
~~~
The moonlight falls across and through the panes
of glass that make the dome above. It falls
Upon unending rows of tomes, remains
Of extant knowledge, lining all the walls.
He searches spines as though the thing he seeks
Is hidden in some volume, even though
He knows it's not. But still, he looks. His cheeks
are flush with effort. He must surely know
That he won't find it. Not in here. But since
It was last taken from him, nowhere yet
Has yielded more success. If you convince
Yourself that love is not about, you get
To the conclusion that you'll find it in
A book, a memory...He cannot win.
