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Jun 2015
Be it so, that the sole, most enchanting of all springs, desires to mingle with my
eldest memories, and all 'neath the shades without shadows all the while; and be it so,
that a dear thing to me was then revived by Mnemosyne, fairest water nymph set here in the Helicon spring, carrying me past my former destiny, to witness the union of my ancestors in that bygone style, unbeknownst to so many, unbeknownst to my other self. Would that I might have seen with your eyes In my earlier years... O let me not so dream!
But ponder the while in this, the election of
your beauties -so much surpassing. I hear such sweet new melodies, ****** songs of the waters tempted naught by the world I
did hereby leave, playing on thru the glorious hours unheeded by the dials, carrying the rhythm which tames my soul's wandering,
gathering my thoughts upon thoughts to beyond others thoughts, granting me, among
careless divisions, a greater knowledge or a faint calm feeling which I do so owe this place.
O, whence I have in mid-air flown above grotto's, as do the fortunate birds of paradise, now level
with mine eye, larger do they seem to mine eye, and more majestic to mine mind they could not be.
O grant me more than a moment to be here half-suspended by the windy current, as a warm bath in
the naked sun of Helicon, and safe as any creature I remember. With such curious whispers does such
curiosity speak to me, where all seems like Heaven, or what of Heaven I imagine. I deem these spirits I see to be as real to my mind as any, and do oft
ponder as an child, meek and mild as was I; and so,
floating upon this stream, go I on further now
into this dream, like the wanderer I have long been.
And the rocky overhead on the hill rises to greater
heights than my flight dares take me momentarily,
though my wings do not tire whilst I soar about the
magnificent scenery in such splendor like an unfurled
tapestry flapping freely. With a steady faith I press
on, yet again, and steal away, to return, return  to
land, landing upon the streamside that speaks to me
with a patient air. Ah! not so was it that I once didst
here lose my way, not even on walks across the plain,
the valleys, or any such sweet, sweet meanderings.
Yet, what unexpected comes? The shade of shadows?
Tempt me not! I exclaim to Sorrow, for long have I
since escaped that chapter in my life, or, do my eyes
merely jest, to see if still I'd want to remember all,
when that which I repressed then so the most in
those dark hours comes forth just as well? I draw
a blank, and so I rest in that shadow dark, arrested,
which renders me unwell, but somehow feels
familiar, or even most comfortable. I wake now,
feeling cold in the darkness, wondering, worrying
with a sinking feeling, as if some mire I had entered
in my sleeping. Wherefore did I take this road, which
made of my progress a mockery? Was it for pity, this
push on to self-destruction? I mustn't deem such an
accident, or argue on that my senseless judgement
played a part. O, where hath passed I! how far must
I travel to return? Just then, a voiceless whisper came
to mine mind, calm as any, to me familiar, though faint did
I upon the ground where I stood, whence I did learn
to what I owed this noble good. My spirit guide arrives
to take me beyond the flood, the flood of ruin that drains
now from the tomb that was for so long my only

— home.
Jamie L Cantore
Written by
Jamie L Cantore  The Land Of Flowing Hair
(The Land Of Flowing Hair)   
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