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Why do I wake unrested in this keep? Where is my sword? Where lie my… - the period of cosmography
anselmo_b
anselmo_b
Why do I wake unrested in this keep?
Where is my sword? Where lie my spear, my mail?
Whose will is it to make my purpose fail?
Whence came the tangled dream, the poisoned sleep?

It bore the semblance of a peaceful life,
There was a wife and children and a house,
And tepid love and nothing to arouse
Cold dread of trouble or shrill din of strife.

As passion flows back burning into me,
The glamour ‘s cast back through the Ivory gates.
I blow my horn, the walls come down, I’m free.

I ride again, the last man on the quest
To bring the cup back to the king that waits
And heal the grievous wound that ails the West.
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Comments
From: (Anonymous) Date: March 17th, 2008 12:48 pm (UTC) (Link)
anselmo,

I missed your post to my blog, on art and math. just saw it and wrote back. it's its own entry, called Art and Math. I didn't say anything all that important, but your comments were interesting, and I was sorry that I somehow didn't see them before. t-ruth. meanwhilie, wow! look at all these poems!
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