Silver – stanza 7.2

Allison’s diary begins with a troubling dream
The dream itself sounded benign, her feelings
Were troubled as a result of the dream, strangely
Or not, I had troubling dreams, lurid in details
Traveling long distances, searching frustrated
Names and faces and an urgency to get home
To a home I never knew and yet knew too well
I rose from bed this morning feeling like a new man
My eyes opened with a fresh outlook, devouring
Life anew, the dream haunting me in flashbacks
Each recurring flash a white light of restoration
Layers of history peeled back through ages
The Malinov journals began about a year ago
A short time before the one Allison wrote
But unlike the dancer who struggled to express
Herself in verbal terms, Malinov knows his
Elocution, expressing himself in metaphors
That hummed with poetry, the lark’s call
So strange then to pick up the history telling me
Tales of medieval Malinov, an eager
And fool hardy young man engaged in alchemy
In an age when such tinkerings could easily
Lead him into the clutches of the Inquisition
Searching for answers, chasing the light
And finding it finally in the guise of a woman
Surely infernal by the theology of the times
Silver had answers but was herself an enigma
A bundle of mysteries, she gave Malinov clarity
The truth in a world dogged by superstition

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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