His stories echoed in my ears,
Their tickling with sorrowful cheers,
Of the faun I once was now drifting away.
Fading with the silhouette of who he was for years,
Small figures twisted from clay,
Played out the theatre of dreams washed away,
Broken branches left in my wake,
Unto the river to cleanse my thoughts, at the break of day.
The rising sun reflecting off the water’s face,
Aphrodite’s daughters were bathing in the lake,
Sheets of falling crystals shattered in the pool,
She was the eyes of the forest,
And it’s downwards spiraling iris compelled my very being to its centre,
A frozen stream at the core of its soul,
Grasped my feet, my calf, my body in whole,
As it dove with me through the dancing shadows of eternity.
In that deafening darkness I heard a voice,
So sweet it could pierce a leviathan’s roar,
Let alone the dull droning of the abyss that obscured,
The eels and catfish from my gazing,
At its beautiful source,
The Queen in all her glory,
Her presence divine, her whispers that story,
Of a place where poetry was all of life,
She gave me an amulet,
This piece, this piece I held in my hand,
The piece itself, a map of the land,
A vessel for the spirit’s release,
Just like the King Of Paradise,
Had told me in ghost-like reflection,
But who was this faun that now sat on his throne?
Who thinks he basks in paradise reborn,
But doesn’t he know all around him are spies,
They send word, back to the King of Paradise,
And they watch through covetous eyes,
“Enter the library,
For what awaits inside,
A thousand years since Elysium fell,
Scrub off the rust,
In tournament you will thrust,
Hold it to the light,
It is the omen of your life,
Beacon to Elysium,
To it’s call you must stride,
Emerge from the forest,
Like the ghost of night.
The King is falling,
Take Paradise.”
It was then I heard soaring beating wings on the wind,
Growling paws thumping on the forest floor,
Where did this amulet fall from?
From where did it come?
Increasingly, my thoughts turn to destiny.
For what comes to me is my own,
And the prophecies of this big wide world,
Fall at the shore of a reaching unknowable ocean,
But that abyss in the distance began to form both shape and sound,
Like a ship that peered from the great beyond,
Followed by legions of voices,
Caroling with passion,
A chorus of Romantic roars that bellowed its chants to Elysium,
The sound of a great billowing cause,
Beauty rising with the dawn,
We shall rally and tumult at the grey falling skies.
For they scuffed and fought for the lord of the fauns,
And then raising my fist for that lord is I,
Dust and clamor at desire for this life,
In tribute to the heavens, for that time is ours.
With wreathes of roses adorned they let their bellows howl at the moon.
Elysium was ours for the taking,
At the fall of day we did run, carrying the thorns, the stem and all,
We met the followers and climbed up the heights,
And savored the day for the lions and wolves.
From that vantage I saw, a life that did shine,
Scaled the citadel walls,
The parlor of Gods and Monsters of chariots all of fire,
The falling wheel spins in wonder and the birds chimed with desire,
A sudden burst of feeling as if death crossed our eyes and existence sprang anew, an eternal sacrifice,
Elysium was overrun with the bastions of beauty,
They scoured and tasseled and felt the ornaments and sculptures and paintings,
They shuddered, dripping with power,
For paradise was ours.
Cinematic poetry by Laurence Fuller Original poetry and performance by Laurence Fuller Visuals & Music aided by AI by Laurence Fuller www.laurencefuller.art @laurencefuller