Thus Three Princes of Reverie

In a land far away, in a time long ago, there are tales that lay poised on the breath of morn. Crisp and alive and joyful and tender, memories of lovers suspended in faerie, like soft footprints on lush meadows. Timeless. Endless. Wondering. Ever dreaming. Ever yearning. For life again, for love again, for thus again.

This is one such tale. Lest it fade like footprints...

Thus Three Princes of Reverie

Part I: Reverie

if
we should light upon each other
unawares
or mayhap awares of some indefatigable dislocation
would we
or not
step back
or forth
into reverie of memory

do you remember
horses in spring
and fields of green and elan esprit
do you remember
ashen timber perched aloft in neat little staggered rows
of fences for ascending and teetering
and dancing and flying
like merry butterflies alighting daisies afield, aflutter

of warmth and breath, and hair tangled in tall grass
and arms and legs akimbo
of laughter and innocence and insouciance and
preoccupation
why
pass through the liminal threshold
of here to there
strong and brave and tall and proud
still
not willing
to forsake
the clarity of audacity
of warmth and breath, and hair tangled in tall grass
demanding no rhyme no reason no explanation no context
no interview no introduction no legitimization no bridge

of the hearty puffs and snorts
of horses aquivering aglow amidst the free reign of free roams
over hills over fields over rocks nestled in creeks
babbling and giggling
like children on holiday
in a country of candor and the intoxicating scent
of woods and grass and mists and
flowers awaiting knitting
hands plucking from rooted fates
the wispy dreams of a boy's unfettered gift to a girl
a crown
with which to reign a faerie kingdom
of princes and paupers
opulent with love and joy and mirth and tenderness
and poor in baubles and artifice
cast aside
in rucksacks propped against fences
alongside shoes and cares and weary worries

do you remember
reclaiming you
uncovering me
redeeming life
divining love

if we should light upon each other
unawares
or mayhap awares of some indefatigable dislocation
of hearts where to hearts here
of souls where to souls here
of kin and kindred and love and loved
sundering talismans of fabricated narratives
piercing fogs of yore
to bring forth that reverie of memory
that was not a dream

to rekindle anew
our warmth our breath our hair tangled in tall grass
the effervescent genuity of our profound affection
the corporeal boy, the ethereal girl
there where here
noble and serene and fierce and devoted
yet
still
not willing
not ever
to repudiate the truth
of you of me of life of love
of thus

Part II: Rhapsody

this delirium
this ecstasy
this everything
this more

beyond immortality
beyond all that is, was, will ever be
this
more

beyond hearts aflame with lust, with joy
as intense as supernovas in the throes of creation
more
than that of fairy tale ephemera of immaterial infatuations
of what nourishes
our love
our life
our today
our tomorrow

of muses, of mentors, of champions, of friends
of mind, of body, of heart, of spirit
of inspiration, of devotion, of fealty, of freedom
to love without fetters
is
to love free
to love true
to love more

our love
is
was
will ever be
more

Part III: Reveille

alas
is that you
smiling and laughing
that hollow laugh of glittering aspiration
rolling Bentleys and Maybachs and private jets a'empty
with attendant yes sir-ing yes ma'am-ing
know nothings
amassing checks cashed in the currency of
Louis Vuitton and Rolex and
tailored frippery and couture lace
stitched with entitled thread and
invisible paid endorsements
as classless as pyrite dipped faux gold
hanging on wanna-bes drenched in superfluous self-importance
masking their cavalier conceit within the spotlight of
abysmal grifters

is that you
grifting
playing the mandolin, with hat in hand, dancing on cue
singing the praises of ringmasters and puppet masters
turning tricks on public stages and private theaters
winning trophies of participation
agog
livin' it up
in a life edited beyond reality
as synthetic as styrofoam spray painted sets
to look like mansions
and rooms
blasted via candid images to Facebook and Instagram and Twitter

is that you
asking fans and followers
to congratulate zircon artifacts of fidelity loyalty achievement
while admiring the hypocrisy of purity with
inspirational blather without context, alongside
hospital window dressing
as artfully crafted as reality
to sell
goodwill ambassadors
also known as image spinners and imposters

is that you
on media
or social media, twin doppelganger
scantily yet artfully clad 'fore some frenetic exotic locale
or is that a backdrop, a green screen, a photoshop trip
down fantasy lane
no less authentic
than moguls
whose effortless skipping the light fantastic abroad newsworthy headlines
hardly sets afire
any
much less
timber woods

alas
I remember

hearts blooming in lush meadows amidst the
aphrodisia of unalloyed genuity and
sincerity of unbridled candor
plunging the prince and the queen into
supernovas of serenity
like waves crashing and breaking
against thrall
fortresses of forgery crumbling
'fore fields of elan esprit
oh sanctuary, oh bliss
succumbing to the delirium of joy and mirth
honoring and obeying the ecstasy of
boundless, limitless, restraintless
ever

is it possible
to
forsake illusion
repudiate delusion
refuse deceit
forswear indignity

for you
for me
for love
for more

Part IV: Untitled

lest life be but ever
yearning for endless fancies
and coarse delusions

lest sleep be but mind
unopened empty, numb heart
slumber on, dream not

lest life be but dread
fearsome wasteland, dear soul, why
not now awaken

to sun, to morning
oh humble fulfillment of
immortality

Fin

More

for princes and paupers of reverie ~ for queens suspended in faerie slumber ~ for one and all ~

awake! awake! awake!

fondly yours,

a m

Note

If - by Rudyard Kipling (@ Wiki)