(Fractured Fairytale #99)

beneath the bends of Barrymoor . . .

on the southwest winds she chants some more . .

the clouds scoot by beneath full moon . . .

some say she's crazy like a loon . . .

dressed in Black she cackles back while tossing ashes from a velvet sack . . .

then she throws her body down . . .

moans and sobs into the ground . . .

a dagger she does draw it forth . . .

holding high for all its worth . . .

she shrieks and damns her birth . . .

then plunges it into her heart . . .

. . . so ends the life of the young ****. . .


now the owls come fluttering in . . .

alighting next to still warm skin . . .

all walk around the disposed young beast . . .

only uttering "Who ?" to say the least . . .

then the Great Owl comes fluttering in . . .

he'd be a giant if he were made of men . . .

he collectively surveys the scene . . .

takes a few steps before he says a thing . . .

"Take her body to Evermore !" . . .

the great one does order and implores . . .

and all the owls take to wing . . .

holding the remains of the breathless thing . . .

and take her earthly shell away . . .

"To the sacred woods of Evermore ."

yes sacredness be in evermore .  . .

Spend this Summer too between your fingers.
corn-gold, combed hair.
Only your stains were left painted on the sand,
where your body once stood like a Cypress.

But another time will come.
When the sea will postpone a crystal spring.
And the sea, the Morning; ice cold, is buried alive under your foot.

          - until Spring comes to bring warmth.

-GZ, 1986

The pulsating rhythm of sound crashes against my ears,
resonating deep within her essence- those shattered fragments
have been mended, creating a sense of wholeness for both of us.
Your soul is a sanctuary where I find my refuge, and through
its window of your gaze, I glimpse the serene blue reminiscent
of a crisp, clear day, washed over by your tears. I slipped through
the fissures of time, where what feels like eternity is merely a
whisper of the long-lost days of our youth.

I extend hope to you, like a dream offered to the weary eyes
of an insomniac; I express my thoughts as gentle lullabies, soothing
enough to lull a multitude of lovers into slumber.

Your boundaries resemble a box filled with crumpled matchsticks,
a tongue parched and coated in the remnants of ash. You’ve yearned
for love, waiting for that first drop, now tasting the last. Yet, you
remain burdened by silence, unable to voice your desires, and sadly
weighed down by those you once held dear.

You've transformed into a fallen star, your essence suspended
like vibrant neon lights. It pains me to realize the depths of feelings
you'll never know— as our spirits linger in a shared dream, each of us
isolated in our own worlds.  All we seek is true Sincerity.