Songbook II

[Dandeli]

(a fish out of water)
 
On a bygone day on bygone shores,

Miss Mnemosyne shared with me a tale!

  

It was about a woman anchored to the waves of fate's indifference and cruelty both,
A woman who ran away from her children and drowned to reach her father,

Her name was writ by the serpent: Leucothea, it was!

  

The progenitor of my people.

A people I would never truly know!

  

At the bottom of some damp well, the knell of despair echoed from it's floor,

And with so little left to descend, why not simply reach up and grasp to the pail's frayed rope?

Oft some threads would break away, crumple, but with an ardent tug, there it was; place and purpose.

  

Her!

  

She was my meaning; she was that which I wanted to bring a morsel of joy,

Her children were her light, her everything, and thus I wished to protect them so,

Yet there was the dark; her hubris and her sorrow bottomless like the sea,

It was like staring into frigid waters; I saw my reflection staring back at me!

  

A stupid heart replete of hope battered into silence by the weight of it's own yearning,

A stupid soul fated to be drawn toward the desolate sea of salted grief,

Stupidly weeping, lamenting, regretting, regretting,
Stupidly lost, never sure.

  
Never right!
    

   
I do not seem to have                                  

                             the right songs anymore!

  

  

What a miserable bard!

   

           

(.. I once told the handless Mister Nirav I would lend him a hand ..)