The Vine and the Flesh

An Elven King upon a throne of thorn,
Before the day the human light was born.
He watched her walk across his misty land,
A mortal girl with winter in her hand.
He did not know she was the Soil and Sea,
The ancient soul of Mother Nature’s tree...
He fell so deep, he fell beyond the grave,
To be her master, or to be her slave.

He tore his crown, he cursed his elven blood,
He drank the poison from the river mud.
To blur her face, to pay the erasing price.
He slept for centuries to blank his mind,
But in every bloom, her shadow he would find.
No spell could cure the fever in his head,
The Flower King just wished that he was dead.

So strip the magic from my bleeding skin!
Let the mortal, fragile life begin!
To cease the madness and to end the pain,
I’ll wash my memories in human rain!
The legend says the elven lords would cry
To leave the woods and find a way to die...

He chose to fall. He chose a human womb.
To leave the forest for a mortal tomb.
But the myth is cruel, the ancient law is blind:
The past is frozen when you leave your mind.
He opened his eyes, a crying newborn son,
And looked at the mother whose life had just begun.
He did not know he kissed his holy love,
The soil below, the changing sky above.

He grew up poor, he grew up loving green,
The sweetest mother that he’d ever seen.
He loved her hands that smelled of rain and earth,
The sacred warmth that gave his body birth.
He bound his soul to love her every day —
Not as a queen, but in a human way.
An elven king who traded everything to sigh...
To love the World, and as a man to die.

He stripped the magic from his bleeding skin!
The mortal, fragile life had taken him!
No more madness, no more ancient pain,
He forgot his kingdom in the human rain!
The Flower King is now a human child,
Loving the Mother, fierce and green and wild...

Just like the legend said...
We wanted to be human.
Under the water... the morions sleep.
And so do I.