Acedip

Wating under the starry night,
thro’ fieldth of grass and hay,
singing that solitary song,
which long ago a reaper sang.

The first presage of winter is following,
starth are moving faster than i can walk,
I am running from the solitude but can not,
helpless rooted I stare from the midearth,
thro’ the starth where i can reach not.

The old song is following from the meadowth,
across the earth, thro’ the shadowth,
who eclipsed come from the back,
on the track,
on which i sit.

Gone are the months of may,
when we, in arms lay.
in the fields of grass and hay,
where my soule still stays
starth did shine but did not move fast
to watch us–at last.

long gone are the dayth of love
when that old song was sung by none,
but all the starth, all the meadowth,
drown in the solitary tone.

My hearte bleeds for thy love,
No, the aching said,
thine love was lost long ago,
in the vast tar and tor.

still the helpless ignored the solitude,
and went astray with thine lost love,
now, awake thy poore soule,
run, save thy soule, not get lost any more,
in the vast tar and tor…

Anisingh (signed)

#Found it buried somewhere in my book shelves.. Dated May 2004