The Messenger's Commission

Ezra of the Cleftlands

O pious friend, will you for me
show pity? Harken to my words, give them sound
to him whose gaze can make this pilgrim see
the path from distant relics homebound.

The absence of my friend, poisonous lack,
it shatters time and meter, such that they
fall away fast, and hearts and choirs must strain
and ache for his return, a promised calm.

I rise and fall with Sun and Moon, yea, true,
my heart yet beats for thee, o friend so dear.
It beats for hope alone, daily renewed,
that it may, some day, thine own heart beat near.

I sit among the spheres and stars,
yet all I seek is thee, no matter how far.

This page maintained by Cerian Cantwr, cerian@minstrel.com.