-----------------------------------------------------

*We came upon a rather large seeming hut in the town square.

"Is this an inn?" I asked my companion.

"Finest in the area," he said, winking to me knowingly.
"The purveyor and I go way back. We used to be in the same guild."

We walked through the threshold, which was a small arch with tanned hide hanging from either side forming a curtain. that hung to the ground. The smell of smoked meat and the chorus of drunken laughter enticed us to see what this mysterious establishment held in store.

"What sort of inn is this?" I asked Lazarus.
"The sort of inn operated by a fellow trickster; a mage. My apprentice, in fact- a sort-of jester of spirits, if you will." Lazarus smiled and pointed to the other side of the circus of a room.

There sat a man. Well, he seemed to be floating, really.
He sat about a foot above his seat, sipping a skin of what I could only assume to be wine of otherworldly quality.

"Ah, Lazarus. My old mentor! How are you doing these years?"

"Oh, Ormus, you were never one for subtlety, were you?"

"Subtlety is either a virtue, or a veil, my dear Teacher.
Was that not one of the lessons you taught us:
'He, who hides himself away
is either a coward or a master:
he, who reveals himself wholly
is either a fool or a master.'"

"Very good, Ormus. You study well.
However, it is the virtue of Balance
that you could never quite grasp," chuckled Lazarus.

"Perhaps my balance is simply different from yours, my Teacher," replied Ormus.

"Perhaps you are right...
Have you any rooms for my companion and myself?
We seek a child, foretold to be a Great One.
We require shelter and good company before we set out proper."

"Indeed you do,
and indeed I have!
The restrictions of dimension are no obstacle of a disciple of yours!
Suffice it to say that room can be made.
Who is this lovely one, with whom you travel? Why is she here?"

"My name is Dhorna," I said.
"If you think me weak, you bitterly underestimate me. If you think me cold, you sell me short. Yet, I know I've much to learn, and I find much mystery in Lazarus and in our quest. That is why I am here. Though I know I am easy on the eyes, do not relinquish the idea that I may be hellish to the heart, whether 'tis by steel or emotion. I can fend for myself."

"A pleasure to meet a maiden of such strong spirit." Said Ormus.

"There's much more than meets the eye, Ormus. She is no mere companion; she is a worthy warrior and a skilled scholar. Not just anyone would be called for this quest... she must have.. the gift of the Ancients."

They both looked into my eyes
and I felt a slight shift in reality, itself.
Such power was with these two
and, they seemed to think was with me, as well.

"Before you retire for the night," said Ormus,
"I must insist that we sit and drink and discuss things bygone, and things yet to come!"

You know, you gotta love your pup.
Even, when he is a goofy ****,
tearing up your newspaper
or taking your I-phone out
the doggy door never
to be seen again,
or thinking he's a kitten trying
to get all 100 pounds onto your lap.
His four feet bigger than a small pony's,
ears so long they drag the ground.
The brownest eyes, I swear he puts on mascara,
most forgiving- tail
always wagging-
he loves me, so,
I got to love the goofy ****.

The poems doesn't speak to you.
It sings, it whispers, it screams.

The poem isn't going anywhere.
It dances; glides or crawls.

The poem isn't written.
It is cried, bled or shivered onto

Paper. The poem doesn't care.
It's just there. Where it belongs.

It doesn't mind or like.
It loves, adores or despises from its

Soul. The poems isn't created.
It blesses the poet with its birth.

1611

Their dappled importunity
Disparage or dismiss—
The Obloquies of Etiquette
Are obsolete to Bliss—

Oh, evil clock
  you are my truest enemy;
    your twisted hands
      taunting me
      consistently.

Why do you hate me?
If only I could forget you!
  Let you go for just
    one second...
  Yet then, alas,
    oh clever foe,
  You have me again.

From your evil clutches
  there is no escape.
For even in a moment's reprieve,
  I reminiss, and
    then, suddenly,
  the moment measured,
    I lose again.

You stand proud upon the wall,
  Oh evil clock,
    And I can only pray...
The day shall come
When I have won,
  By counting, instead,
    My beating heart,
Above the sound
  Oh evil clock
    of your two slaves...
  Tic + Toc.

HE:
It was a long while ago
since I left my village
There’s been no word
no traveller with news –
and I am dying for any song
from the girl I left behind


SHE:
It's been some time ago
Since that boy left me behind
Where he is, nobody knows
There's been no news to find
I would like to just sing him one more song
About how he's the boy that I've loved for so long
Maybe he'll come to me, in my dreams
But in reality, he's nowhere it seems...


HE:
The day’s work offers diversion
but the quiet evening
brings back the pain
How is she now
the one I left behind?
I see her still in my mind –
across the river
and she would not wave goodbye


SHE:
I regret not waving to him
On that dreadful final goodbye
I wonder if he thinks of me
On that last day, did he see me cry?
Daily chores and family
Offer me some solace
But nothing feels the same
As when him and I were US


BOTH: (Chorus)
Staring at this glassy water,
Our eternal hearts divide
Do you stare at the same moon’s reflection
From the other side?
I hope you find my love one day
Floating across this wayward water
Until then, I will pray
Our hearts are broken no longer