Another day stirs me awake,
Before its dawn I'll travel far.
Clay path ahead, feet burning dead,
Days - short, nights - long. My friend - a star.
Essea is the name I bear,
For I'm a healer-elf; I share
Great wisdoms of the ancient worlds.
Her secrets Nature deftly hides -
I know paths where She them unfolds,
Jumping, her creatures at my sides.

Knowing my Past, I don't forget
Lothlorien, my only home,
My Mother and my Father - dead,
Now buried under wooden dome.
Over Dark Hills, alongside Men,
Praying for Light, they fought Dark Prince.
Quick death slew them at Sauron's den.
Rare words are spoken of them since...

Searching for Light, I travel wide,
Trees, Herbs, and Rivers help my quest.
Unseen to all, with gales I ride
Vast shores and lands from North to West,
Warring dark powers that may be.
Xylographs I carve, so that
Ye, my Beloved, only Ye,
Zealous for me, do find my path.
----
I have a way with Evil -
My love it should not wish.
Perverted and seduced, then dead
Dark things who taste it, be!

Frightened you are to learn this, -
You needn't be - for I
Present no danger to good folk -
You cannot cheat my eye.

(c)kRu, 2002

I don't think I belong here.

Mom, where'd you go?
Dad, don't leave.

Little sister, little sister.
Deep in my head I stay.

Roaming the hills of unwanted thoughts,
delving the forests of secret things.

Climbing the stories to reach for the sun
I almost grasp a star.

too late
falling
falling
the story not enough to bear me.

falling
     falling
          falling

I don't think I belong here.
I'd rather walk
under the leaves of Lothlorien
sleep under the light of Evenstar

I'd rather die
battling Smeagol
poor, pitiable old Smeagol

I'd rather speak
a language no human knows

deep in the Chamber of Secrets
I'd rather be a Farwalker
I'd rather spit at the Snake in
Eden

I'd rather fly
and meet Oromis and Glaedr

I'd rather wield a sword against
whatever nameless one

in what ever
half forgotten world

born of a dying thought

I'd rather be a character to scorn.

Where are you, Mom, Dad?
Little sister, little sister.

I don't think I belong here.

She roams through El Dorado’s ancient golden ways,
She gazes from black spires of Xanadu,
She walks through green Lothlorien’s unclouded days,
She muses long on Ilium’s deep blue...

I’ve seen her in the chamber of the silver’d doors,
I’ve heard her when the loon in moonlight screams,
I’ve felt her walking silent over marbled floors...
I’ve been with her in echo-haunted dreams...