When the Magic Died

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .


The last days of magic were upon us. 

The trees no longer sang and the stars no longer whispered their secrets soft and low into our ears. The the divine goddesses whom we had worshiped for so long, had turned their golden faces from us and crushed our prayers beneath their heels.  We watched as the stars fell from the sky and the moon hung her head in misery.  Our tears left our faces wet and our eyes red with grief.  No longer the chosen.  No longer the loved.

One by one, we stood in silence, effigies of our previous lives.  The winds no longer moved our hair, but instead carved time upon our cheeks.  The flowers, denuded of their petaled poetry, turned their faces to the earth and the leaves once full of life, fell at our stony feet.

We stand, silent sentinels of a time when magic wove its way through our very veins.

ceg 10.1.11

At the Garden, by the Gate

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .


My dearest Johannes,

There is a chance that I shall be able to find you yet.  I leave the islands today and should be in your fair city soon.  I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to greet me with open arms and a smile.  It has been a lifetime since I last felt your kiss brush against my skin and your whispers in my ear.  When I think of it, I tremble like a silly school girl.

I do remember that night we spent on the rooftop with stars above us and the glimmering of the lights from the city below us.  You said that the light made my skin glow.  I believe it is you who made my skin glow that night.  I can almost feel your mouth on mine, plucking it like some ripe fruit and savoring it at your leisure.  You had to keep your mouth on mine to keep me silent, lest some nosy passerby thought I were being ravaged against my will.

Do you still have that book of poetry that I gave you?  It took so long to write all of my favorite verses down for you.  That bit of a lyric that you loved so much; I never could find it and place it in the book for you, though I tried so hard.  I remember it was about a  rare flower found in a valley by a knight for his fair lady.

I never did believe Madeline when she told me that you had left.  I knew that no power could keep you from me and that you must have been taken by force.  Conscripted into the army, no doubt.  Set sail on some loathsome ship with wretched captors.  Or perhaps it was a robbery gone wrong that found you in the hands of some foul misanthrope.  It makes me shudder.  The thought of you being held against your will; my name upon your lips as you fought to get away.

I dream of you every night and know that I have at last found a trace of you.  I am saddened that your ordeal has erased my memory from you, but I am confident when you see me again, you will once again embrace me with the same vigor you held me all those years ago.

Until then, I leave you with this

In spring’s fair winds you seek me
Trembling to behold thee
In white linen’s sheaths I wait
At the garden by the gate
And when beheld by your eyes
I shall be your bonny prize
Your treasured love hast returned
Upon my heart your name is burned
  Fetch me now, I pray
  And by your side I’ll stay

Your Trijntje

ceg 2.20.12