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literature

The Song of Evening Aire

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By soma   |   Watch
4 8 640 (1 Today)
Published: February 8, 2006
From Orphesil, that star of sleep,
look up to still and twilight skies,
as light that sifts from gold to gold
drifts soft to your star-seeking eyes;
and in hushed breath like almost voice,
a hum to match the evening aire,
look west to lands of marsh and fog,
whisper once a single prayer.
Look east, an ivory pillar glows,
in orchards now unknown to tears,
this heartland, home;
this realm, once known:
angel's hearth and dream's domain.


Though the Seledruin still sighs her way
through Arad Lasav to the gate of boughs,
from Elysius, where yet healing reigns,
under bridges arced soft from whens to nows;
when dreams were young, in aeons past,
once dusky skies did sweep and sing
with the passage of the angels' host,
with tear-soaked hand and dream-soaked wing.
But ivory cracks, with warmth withdrawn,
gossamer cannot nightmares hide;
and comfort taken,
and dream, forsaken,
and it seemed as if this had always been.


The orchard paths lay cracked and bare,
and ivory stood like hollow bone,
fields of endless wheat were chaff;
in mountains' cup, no beacon shone.
Over Anderon the skies were grey,
stars were dimmed in Eafrost's beam;
pale fog crept with ghosts and shades,
with haunted glimmer, faded gleam.
And in the moors of southern lands,
Morphael's name lay hushed and mute,
dreams were torment,
and sleep a lament,
even waking, solace was still to all unknown.


From ley to ley, cross soft-folded wood,
all prayers brought only hope of fear:
that gaze of angel's clear-dreamt eye,
was truth that burned and cut too near.
And those that slept did madness dare:
angelic hosts with mirrored gaze
swept fierce across the darkened sky,
too swift for time for cries to raise.
Bael-Altairl walked alone the land,
from Il Ilu, cross Aerion Straight;
past pillars' height,
through forests' light,
into now lonely hum of eventide.


In Elysius golden, to sleep is to heal,
Morphael there pressed his face to the earth.
Shattered, alone, he sought dreamless sleep,
a place unknown to death and rebirth.
And the angel let out a single cry,
that echoed across the many realms,
all Ilphaem did weep with Him then,
for a grief so great which overwhelms.
In that hung moment before dream was ended,
he heard a far call he could not deny:
that voice withdrawn,
a cry heralding dawn,
an angel of mercy, the shepherdess lost.


In that honeyed place outside of time,
Astriel found comfort to give and receive,
with dream's help she returned to refuge;
realm and brother, promised never to leave.
It could not be guessed, by such as I,
what angels say to restore and console,
but only that towers of wing and horn
were on this day seen healed and whole.
Morphael returned to the dreams he had built;
in the tower of ivory, light was rekindled,
the evening aire sighed,
into sleep did all slide,
and with visions, or none, they awoke becalmed.


Now paths and dreams and fields of flax,
and skies that ebb like waves of light,
call to your dream-seeking eyes;
this place which never bows to night.
So lift up your cheek to star-swept eve,
and whisper once a prayer of thanks,
and if your tears these moments fall,
the air shall wash them from dream's banks.
From icy Saamn to crested Aaos,
this land from which belief was made:
this heartland, home;
this realm, once known:
angel's hearth and dream's domain.
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© 2006 - 2019 soma
This is one of the many poems by the Unknown Poet, who was rumored to have walked all the realms at least once in her life. Not much else is known of her, but that she wrote numerous verses. The five that are most widely spoken of are those that described her experiences in each of the realms.

This particular verse is of the realm of Turing. Legend holds that she came upon Turing after a time of turmoil, when the Ivory Tower had stood vacant and Morphael was scarce to be seen, except for the madmen who whispered of seeing him striding through dream-mists in a form of terrible glory, not at all like his usual contemplative figure, trailed behind by the merciless Hosts of the Dreams of Unfaceable Truth, with their mirrored eyes and hooked hands. She saw the realm healing, though, and wrote of this transition.
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Aurora Borealis curls and drifts, effervescent filigree, gorgeous hues, illuminating jubilant kingdoms; languid meandering and nebulous oceans perish quietly, realm ravaged, it subsides- temperamental universe, verdant world withered- extinct... yielding its zenith
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Shadow or Grey Jedi Poem
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Comments8
anonymous's avatar
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RaAnan's avatar
my mind in indebted to you, grasping rythm. i'm sure backstory brings even more layers of appreciation.
soma's avatar
somaProfessional General Artist
I'm indebted to you for reading, and for your appreciation, even more. I hope to soon have more stories like this to sing.
the-pr0phet's avatar
this is great. i love the beautiful mythology that you and frail are weaving.
soma's avatar
somaProfessional General Artist
Thank you, that means a lot to me. I'm happy to be a part of it.
AlienDonkey's avatar
beautiful.




i won't say more - this is all that needs to be said.
soma's avatar
somaProfessional General Artist
...And a sincere and heartfelt 'thank you' is all that I can say in return.
frail's avatar
frailHobbyist Traditional Artist
this is the best thing i've ever read
soma's avatar
somaProfessional General Artist
:heart:
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