Friday, 13 November 2015

The Obsidian Mere

A still, black hole stared at my face.
Suddenly reason lost all trace.
I stared down, deep into space.
Staring, feeling was lost in pace
and my heart it started to race.

"This is the Mere" Hern murmured
"makes you feel queer?" he continued
"never mind it, here is my space
you continue here by my grace -
not only you but your whole race."

I turned and ran from the glade,
digging I did and hiding too,
but in my head a constant thread
pulled me on to constantly run
to that black pool, so dark, so dread.

Woken up to stare into the sphere,
once again by Mere I was here,
stood blank-staring no ripple shown,
reeds etched up, rushes bow down,
reflecting a dank, brooding sky.

As I stood, blank-staring eventually un-caring
of what grim fear (a head may rear) would scarily appear.
I looked in the obsidian mere, saw as She wove budding blooms;
A skull and flowers, a swan, the lovers, the pelican plucking power
and reason strode my face and my heart did hope to boom.

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