soliloquy

Where have I been, my dear
When you called out my name?
Been looking for some proper reason
Just to excuse myself from being deaf?
Or might it be, perhaps, some awful lot upon me
For I’ve forgotten how you even look

I am a vessel filled with spectral dust
Stars in her eyes, they say, that’s for the looks
I am a weed plant grown among fruit trees
Sort of indigenous, kind of out of place

They say that art is such a nonsense thing
To make one well you have to go off rails
Indeed, you’ll never find a gem one of a kind
If you stay close to sanely solid road

Art hides in places dull for prying eye
Same goes for magic but that’s a thing akin
And just between them two I can now see your name
As well as on the hands of kissed by god

The wanderlust called louder than ever
When you get such a distant look in eyes then you’re lost
But lost to whom? To those marked sedentary
Whilst you’re a winged pursuer of faraway

Now I remember what you really meant
When trees were higher and the wind felt strong
How you sang tunes in flowing elder tongues
And nature whispered back to seal this ties

Now I remember