The Glade of Galadriel

- jan-u-wine

2.


What shall I look for?

What shall I see?
 

*    *     *     *     *
 
Like the unwilling
touch
 
of your foot
upon my stair,
 
this question,
 
like the hesitant
light
 
that falls
from the fading stars.
 
In another time,
another
 
place,
 
your Lady
should have answered you.
 
With great words,
 
bound equal
 
with beauty
and perilous pride,
 
she should
have answered you.
 
A different Age
that was,
 
an Age
when the World
was not yet worn
 
by evil,
an Age echoing yet
with Song.
 

Within this glade,
there is no Song,
 
no gentle resonance
of the tender crafting of a world,
 
no answer
to the darkness
 
waiting, with surety,
 
beyond
time-slowed borders.
 
There is only this moment,
sharp and fine
 
as adamant,
 
this moment,
and
 
you,
 
you,
undone
upon the knife-point
of your fear,
 
your desire.
 
You will look.
 
Without words passing between us,
I feel your frightened thought:
 
you
must.
 

I know what you will see.
 
And the glade becomes dark,
 
midnight'd and cold
with your seeing.
 
Your fear
beats
 
like a hammer
upon me,
 
grief twisting
and spilling
 
like Sea waves
on a winter-deep day.
 
It is your heart
I feel in my throat,
 
your tears that
close my eyes,
 
your.....
 
terror
that opens them, at the last.
 

He
 
has found
you.