Part Three of The Courtyard Ghosts is written by our lonely hearted man as he struggles with his feelings and desire to run to her, but knows he cannot, and so struggles to let go…
The Courtyard Ghosts
Part Three
From Courtyard Fountain
Been to the pub tonight,
with Jonas Sapp and Bill,
plenty laughs and drink there,
and many stories, we had our fill.
But here am I in silent hall,
last flagon in my hand,
alone, just left the peaceful stable,
and here I find the blood of man
and that of what I am –
I pray the blood inside my veins
does not betray this pen with wine
that flows within my being,
and opens the secrets of my mind…
But what of that?!
I crave in silent squalor
to let this passion go,
and so eclipse this temporal state
and seek the face I do love so…
Yet I do not know her name –
and tho’ each day I see her,
I find my resolve weak, and lame –
But how I wish to hold her,
imbibe the scent within her hair,
feel her heat and flesh on mine,
thus feel our souls entwined,
ensnared in love’s elixir manifest,
of conscience gone and therein blessed
by lust and love so true…
But sadly this is not my journey,
yet shamefully do I count it so –
that I withdraw to seek forgiveness
within the truth of life I know…
Yet dreams I cannot still…
I see the courtyard and in such fill
the sleeping senses of the day –
the scent of summer lilacs and lavender along my way
through northern woods to get there.
I sing a gypsy song,
and calmly plod old Sam there,
till elm and oak enrobe in throng
and hold that sacred courtyard
where true love lies within,
so pass through lowered boughs of green
and bow my humble soul to them,
as passing through a gateway,
where only Venus holds the gate –
then open into courtyard such
and pray my arrival is not late…
to see her stoic figure
thrust from window’s parapet,
and know her eyes are watching me
as Sam and I to fountain let
our worldly focus go…
He draws of water slowly there,
as if to bide me time,
that I may muster courage and
synch my breath and heart in rhyme
to turn to face her window,
hopeful and afraid the same,
so raise my eyes to meet hers
and in this moment so untame
the passion in my breast piece,
the strength to cure a million woes,
but hold myself behind my smile,
to honor truths that I do know…
She is my catch, my Mary,
my heather on my Scottish hill,
yet her and I may not realize
the passion and the love, the thrill
that so enwraps us,
draws us lost on lonely nights,
yet still we have a silent vow,
sacred as the deepest rights
that bless a man and woman,
grant their hearts to beat as one,
yet temporal truths betray us,
and turn us back alone,
to live the lives we’ve chosen,
to bless the loves around us, dear,
yet know our vow’s unspoken
from the truths that keep our spirits, clear…
And so each day to courtyard’s bliss
I draw dear Sam and I,
to touch true love and spirit real,
and never question why…
To you my love,
my nod –
– goodbye – forever yours…
these thoughts and stubborn murmurings
brought forth to let her go,
yet few more years he struggled on
until his heart could go no more
and she laid down to rest –
his followed hers, upon his own request.
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