Sultana

When I woke up this morning I was compelled to write this.



My heart was once a Great Hall
Lit by your thousand blazing candles
Casting a fiery gleam on warm polished wood
Golden figures
Rich fabrics
Sensuous flickering light on vibrant bodies.
Light hearts buoyed by pure joy of living, and loving.

Shouts of laughter filling the room,
Red wine flowing like liquid rubies sparkling into cups.
Music poured forth, gilding everything it caressed.
And I danced on the floor, glittering in my glory,
Commanding every eye, revealing
my flesh, and the joy of my flesh.
Mistress of the Hall

But now I creep, clutching my guttering light
through a dim, grey suggestion of what once was.
Damp seeps through the air like tears trickling down a face.
Instruments lie abandoned, music silenced, cast aside.
Dusty banners sag against stone walls, unwarming.
Cold wine bloodstains the tables.
Dance slippers cast aside into dark corners, unneeded.

I know I must light my own candles, no one can do it for me.
And so I make my slow, sad way to the fixtures
igniting what I have the heart to burn
It will have to make do.

But I fear my heart will never again blaze,
and all I have to remember you by
are ashes.

__________________
"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath.
At night, the ice weasels come." -

Matt Groening

My goal? To fulfill my potential.