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Driving up the highway
When I saw it in the mist
Like a pure and tender ******
Still waiting to be kissed
A village all forgotten
Somehow time had missed
You could see it from the highway
slightly hazy in the mist

Had time forgotten this poor place
Left in limbo for all days
Was it just a trick of light and sun
Manufactured through the haze
Were the folks here ****** to stay
Out of reach but in our gaze
Or were they truly here by choice
Living old, forgotten ways

Brigadoon did spring to mind
but, in truth I thought this good
Be something better than that curse
This village protected by the wood
I pulled on to the shoulder
And tried to see as best I could
This simple town or vision
That had not aged as it should

I saw no point of entry
No way to get there from my place
It was perfect, untouched, special
A village bathed in grace
Folks kept driving past me
Up the highway at such pace
They would never see this village
In the mist as fine as lace

The village may be magic
It may be something in between
In truth all I can tell you
What I saw, not what I mean
It's a village, plain and simple
in the woods, all shades of green
Un-kissed, and yet so perfect
stuck in stasis, in between
Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015


My attempt at translating it into Latin:

Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.


And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:

And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.

The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.

From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.
My eyes kept wandering to his forearms, his wrists, the space between his fingers.
My mind seeking hidden messages in his gestures, secret poetry between his fingertips.
But his hands were empty and my mind overflowing.
I looked in between the lines but my eyes could not distinguish the subtle hints of his voice.
In the end, he never gave me any indication he used to like me.
But my mind never stopped going back and forth between now and then. Between here and there.
I am afraid I flew through time by myself. He never followed. Never wondered where I went in a breath, a lost stare.
My friend asked me if I felt anything.
I don't think the feels every left.
They just wander around with no place to go.
I wonder if they feel neglected, useless, already dead without having even lived.
Emilyn Nguyen Jan 2015
“My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.”
– Virginia Woolf, Selected Letters

Reading Virginia,
as if I understand her morals.
“Do not,” She has written.

Analyzing Woolf,
“One cannot think well,” she says.
my tongue is dry of new air, to “…love well…”

“…sleep well…” – Nightmares mostly,
leftover sleep and a dew of overdue promises
evaporating off my lips,  purging with blood.

She ended, “…if one has not dined well.”
I began: “Do Not Speak to me about Hunger;
Speak to me about War.”

Here I stay: barefooted in between
airport tile floors –  they tell me,
Gritting my teeth to the dreams,
forbidden desire and will to shining silver linings.

The cruelty, unrivaled, taking parts of a dream,
leaving most to die, but she’s hungry,
they told her the war’s over, but she won’t heel,
filling a God-sized with infused useless poetry madness.

- Emilyn Nguyen
-Ben- Dec 2014
i want to be with you
whether it is loud
or in silence
i want to be with you
in the evening, in the morning
and in between times

i want to be with you
whether evidently
or in between lines
i want to be with you
to speak, to think
to cry,  to laugh, to live

i want to be with you
no matter if it rains
or the sun is shining
i want to be with you
whether sitting, standing
or lying

i want to be with you
and experience much
taking and giving a lot
i want to be with you
in all times, in all places
for every reason
Silence Screamz Dec 2014
Breathless transition
between life and death
Soul floating above
No, STOP!!
I am not done living
Point of no return
Seeing the light
Pulls you up
Cold chills
Not going
Soul returns
Alive again
In between
Dear God Nov 2014
Us
The difference between you and me is
*us
I don't think you'll understand, but if you do please keep it as a secret...
In the moment of melancholy, You're my inspiration.
Maybe one day we will know the true
For you C.
Eleanor Rigby Nov 2014
Entire universes could exist
Between two people, he truthfully said.


F.Z.**N
10W
Chalsey Wilder Oct 2014
My mind is in-between
In-between hell and insanity
In-between heaven and solitude
My heart is in-between
In-between hoping and wanting
In-between sorrow and self punishment
My soul is in-between
In-between hell's cold fire and heaven's pure indifference
In-between my mind and my heart's in-betweens
In-betweens are difficult. Though I am difficult. Very difficult indeed.
When...
The door closes,
Alone in the dark,
Lost for words,
Without a hope.
I wait for the reassurance
I am worth more than a text.

When...
Dripping down,
Water comes too fast,
Streaming from my eyes.
I am too vulnerable.

Is it sadness
                        When I feel
                                                Nothing at all?
Entre Nous: 'between ourselves'.
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