“The Way is as Olde as Creation, and as
Fresh as every newborn creature.”
There is One Rose for the One I love_
and a One‑ing in the Lilacs I strove
to conceal – where dalliance is given
to the champion of Gardening in May. 1
“Here is a Lilac Bouquet for you, Poet.”
I thanked Her, though I knew her not,
and in the safety of glancing She went_
back to where I saw her coming again,
in the empowering scent of lilac boughs! 2
“Here’s a green porcelain vase as well.”
Visitors visiting my vistas at a New Dawn,
I flew in the One‑ing I knew for Her!
I gaped at the Heavens breaking down,
showing me God & Goddess in a Fawn! 3
“Shall I fill up the vase with water for you?”
She was scented like a Lilac Virgin;
Fresh as every newborn creature.”
‑ Kerric, Elvenkrieg
There is One Rose for the One I love_
and a One‑ing in the Lilacs I strove
to conceal – where dalliance is given
to the champion of Gardening in May. 1
“Here is a Lilac Bouquet for you, Poet.”
I thanked Her, though I knew her not,
and in the safety of glancing She went_
back to where I saw her coming again,
in the empowering scent of lilac boughs! 2
“Here’s a green porcelain vase as well.”
Visitors visiting my vistas at a New Dawn,
I flew in the One‑ing I knew for Her!
I gaped at the Heavens breaking down,
showing me God & Goddess in a Fawn! 3
“Shall I fill up the vase with water for you?”
She was scented like a Lilac Virgin;
filling my Heart's vase with gifting flowers
while I sat upon my swivel‑chair, playing
with jacks I’d discovered in a cupboard! 4
“I like your gargoyles. Are they real?”
Vine‑covered, I found the buds opening
and turning to the Queen of the Flowers
who was standing before me in chiffon –
It was then I saw Her;
and heard Her sprites playing on the lawn! 5
“You don’t know me yet, do you Poet?”
“Yes, I DO_” I protested, confusing strains.
But then Her eyes sparkled like fountains
and I re‑called the naming of a Poet’s Love;
“Christabell_” I said, dumbly, and sighed. 6
“Shall I fill your chambers with Lilacs?”
I knew the query. “Yes, anything you want.”
She tickled my chin, went and came in again
with an armful of fragrance for my cellar!
“You’re so changed in aspect,” I observed. 7
“You shall be too,
while I sat upon my swivel‑chair, playing
with jacks I’d discovered in a cupboard! 4
“I like your gargoyles. Are they real?”
Vine‑covered, I found the buds opening
and turning to the Queen of the Flowers
who was standing before me in chiffon –
It was then I saw Her;
and heard Her sprites playing on the lawn! 5
“You don’t know me yet, do you Poet?”
“Yes, I DO_” I protested, confusing strains.
But then Her eyes sparkled like fountains
and I re‑called the naming of a Poet’s Love;
“Christabell_” I said, dumbly, and sighed. 6
“Shall I fill your chambers with Lilacs?”
I knew the query. “Yes, anything you want.”
She tickled my chin, went and came in again
with an armful of fragrance for my cellar!
“You’re so changed in aspect,” I observed. 7
“You shall be too,
once you heed Summerwood’s call.”
And as she went about filling all my vessels_
I sat in my swivel chair and summer‑dreamed
of luscious vapors beyond the Vale of Sense,
where the Muse, Four‑Folded, would come again.
And as she went about filling all my vessels_
I sat in my swivel chair and summer‑dreamed
of luscious vapors beyond the Vale of Sense,
where the Muse, Four‑Folded, would come again.
Magdalena--Christabell--Angelique--Elisabeth! 8
“We’re all waiting for you to wake up, Poet!”
I shook all quelled, sugared-off like Maple
in the trusses of Her secreting artifices!
I felt the juices within my soul-house roil,
and heard Her Quail and Dove calling all! 9
“Goddess sent me; do you want all four of us,
or just me_”
“Yes_” I mumbled, overcome with sweet rainings.
I was heavily put upon_ for an hour or more,
skirted by swirls of Spiral‑Love, I knew the Four –
and wept for Remembrances engraved in Stone! 10
“Your chamber’s all full of Lilacs. What now?”
“Love_” I muttered, wandering aloud in strife,
“We’re all waiting for you to wake up, Poet!”
I shook all quelled, sugared-off like Maple
in the trusses of Her secreting artifices!
I felt the juices within my soul-house roil,
and heard Her Quail and Dove calling all! 9
“Goddess sent me; do you want all four of us,
or just me_”
“Yes_” I mumbled, overcome with sweet rainings.
I was heavily put upon_ for an hour or more,
skirted by swirls of Spiral‑Love, I knew the Four –
and wept for Remembrances engraved in Stone! 10
“Your chamber’s all full of Lilacs. What now?”
“Love_” I muttered, wandering aloud in strife,
_My new word for Inspiration!--
not knowing my Muse-limitations were not yet set!
I breathed in the scented air and howled –
lost in the Graces of my Four Mused Wraiths! 11
“Shall we light candles, or the Bonfire brand!?”
I shuddered and woke – there were no Lilacs;
just the scent blowing in through the windows
left hung open through the Night Watches;
Poet’s wait upon their Muses
_and rage _and weep! 12
“Shall we come back and visit you tonight?”
_Out of nowhere came the ethereal voice;
Fouring of the Muse – all masks giving-way!
I heard their summons like a lover’s entreat,
and knew I would be visited come twilight! 13
“Will you be ready by half‑past eight?”
Sober I got up and went about some chores,
the day seeming to drag on into forever –
For I knew that come Midnight I would retire
_to begin the Vigil; Dumb Victim of my Sirens! 14
So mote it be.
not knowing my Muse-limitations were not yet set!
I breathed in the scented air and howled –
lost in the Graces of my Four Mused Wraiths! 11
“Shall we light candles, or the Bonfire brand!?”
I shuddered and woke – there were no Lilacs;
just the scent blowing in through the windows
left hung open through the Night Watches;
Poet’s wait upon their Muses
_and rage _and weep! 12
“Shall we come back and visit you tonight?”
_Out of nowhere came the ethereal voice;
Fouring of the Muse – all masks giving-way!
I heard their summons like a lover’s entreat,
and knew I would be visited come twilight! 13
“Will you be ready by half‑past eight?”
Sober I got up and went about some chores,
the day seeming to drag on into forever –
For I knew that come Midnight I would retire
_to begin the Vigil; Dumb Victim of my Sirens! 14
So mote it be.
[Originally penned in May 1991, this poetic narrative initiated a summer of writing, resulting in an early manuscript that I called The Shadows of Summerwood. The reference to "all Four of Us" refers to my vision of a 'Four-Fold Muse' as described in mature form in "Invocation of the Four-Fold Muse." A version of this poem and Invocation of the Fourfold Muse were both published in Tales from the Seasons, 2006, pp. 16-21. Both versions are valid; each one has its poetics and directioning syntax. See also "A Musing Life (2 February 2018)" at this blogspot for the evolution of my conceptions of the Muse.]
