of, not in

Childhood memories

imaginary playmates, wondrous fantasies

disappointing realities

I build my gingerbread cave

burn off bits as needed

against the cold

Deep in the woods of childhood

every tree, every lizard, toad,

bramble creating

tunneling stories, glamorous

productions, adventure, romance

Opening eyes upon petty spites,

lonely habits of duty

I look behind to shining grace

realize my place

out, far from grim, grey dawn

upon dawn

listening for enchanting pipes

of Pan to follow 

past the painted sky

Gonna build our army for God

Oh the glory, Oh the rapture

millions of souls marching home

Pushing me

sad, shadow memory

I never know what to answer

Hard harsh faces

leer, jeer, beg for tears

I dare not cry

Held by my arms

fiercely protective

Stale tears drip through

the valves of my heart

caustic, bred of poison

A lonely infant cries in the night,

learning to be human

Blind old seer, wizard, holy prophet

stumbling over rocky hillocks

toward the sun

beseeches, sings, ululates

opening passage, veils, gates

free to breathe, drink, be absorbed

London Bridge is burning, burning

The towers are struck and fallen down

With time and tide a'turning

What was lost may still be found

In a world of lads and lasses

Hale and strong, brave and true

Joined in singing, 

Raise our glasses

And do as we must do

Masked Lady Moon shines

into my room

speaks of fantastic adventure

Dare I question her

abundant concern?

I a masked gypsy

painted in gloom,

a taste for wry humour,

impossible promises,

resplendent terrain.

A woman insane,

taken in by the Moon

fair sister, sparkling cold

so far

I have no home

but that clear, quiet salvation

hiding like Moonlight

unmasked in my mind