The Mirror of Galadriel

- jan-u-wine

I wake from dreams,
 
to find I am dreaming
still….
 
the Shire’s green-gold
stripped
 
from field and Hill.
 
All I hold dear,
lost
 
forever
beyond any reach….
 
while  in my mind….
 
with terrible force,
 
She speaks –
(oh, she speaks).
 
Her voice,
grown large,
 
contends with His will….
 
 
please.
 
I hear her speaking within the closed corridors of my mind.
 
please.
 
You are wise…..
 
you
Sang to the Stars in the first Dawn.
 
You saw
the first Evil arise.
 
You
cannot mean
to deliver me
alone
 
to Darkness.
 
please
 
Take It.
 
Use It
as you will.
 
Her hand
draws back from me.
 
Not even she
will touch me,
 
will sully
herself
 
with that which I bear.
 
And in my heart
I know
 
I could not have given It to her,
 
know
I must carry It
 
though there is no hope.
 
But oh,
 
it is hard to go alone,
 
knowing I shall not long
be alone…
 
hearing Its voice,
 
even now,
running fire through me,
 
touching my every thought
with dark fear.
 
Yes,
 
my hand closes about It.
 
I hate It.
 
I love……
 
the Shire
 
more.