In dryest desert
Lay hidden jewels,
The monuments of days gone by,
Beneath the holy
Sands of Time,
Where altars to the Old Gods lie,
I found myself
Without my faith,
And could not pray, for I would die,
When I awoke,
Beneath the palms,
At the temple of the Ceruni.
To see their Gods,
Such power and fear!
For I've felt no presence as I have felt here,
So strong, so pure,
So rich; Alive!
The Gods have felt so near this night.
I wandered in,
Through sacred gardens,
Which no other man had yet seemed defy,
And came upon her,
Her robes as the snow,
The Goddess of the Ceruni.
She beckoned me
From silvered dome,
Where she was seated, upon silver throne,
I passed the great hemp
And red poppies which shone,
To lay my eyes upon her.
"O Dear Goddess," did i cry,
"Have the heart to tell me why,
When I have spent my days and nights,
Not quite dead, Yet not alive,
Am I shrouded in your Holy Light? "
She gave no words,
But simply smiled,
I, gripped by silence all the while,
Could find no speech
Nor pause for thought,
As she whispered lessons which one time, were taught.
You may think me mad;
I swear I am not!
I'll point out the towers if we find the spot,
Such silver and gold,
Such wonderful shine!
To be in a place where the Gods would recline.
I've witnessed the spires
Of fallen empires,
So proudly they stand in desert dry!
But I've no recollection,
Upon sudden reflection,
Of where the Holy Temple lies.
But when I die,
O, take me there!
Where hemp and poppy kiss the sky!
And on my slate,
Let them write,
"Here lies the last of the Ceruni!"
I love Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and I've always thought about experimenting with the extremely visual and often ***** tinted Romantic style. I think it came out pretty well. After all, I DO know my subject quite intimately.
