To K.

It's a long time since we last spoke. The gods of light abandoned us; Since we parted in acrimony. Now if you have a tragic story That you'd like to relay to me I wouldn't coldly turn away Like the old cynic you once knew. Although I'm a bluffer poet, With a heart that sighs for yesteryear, I could weave the magic again. I‘d guide the slow arrow of beauty. I'd turn pathos into pure sunlight; Nightmares to silver tainted streams. I could chase the crude demons away. I know secret entrances/ exits. And I know your moves and your mind. Did you ever stop to consider Where you were going those curséd days? Drifting in and out of existence Like an angel caught between worlds. O we could have shaped the scheme of things. We could have glimpsed eternity; In each particular that we crossed. O how you must look back and wonder What visions could have been realized. Now I'm living on the outskirts, While you are dying in your dreams. Perhaps there's a way to end the pain. Remember whispered words when we hid From the summer rain - an age ago? I still have the keys to your secret realms. Only I know your moves and your mind.