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Valley of Despair (Part 1)
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Series Poems I.
It was my first thought that rang aloud:
“It’s madness, sheer self-destructive insanity;
Nobody could ever undertake such a quest
And come out victorious at the path’s end.”
A journey to, and through, dying lands
For a prize that nary a lad has seen.
To seek the Relic of ancient myth, elderly lore;
I go forth under Night’s hoary shadow.
II.
Proceed on a southerly course.
Align with the stairway of stars,
The Cosmic Path of older times
Where quests were noble and their heroes
Seen as mirror images of the gods.
The clearing in the dense forestry is the way,
Needles and underbrush crackle under my heel
And I trudge on, the scent of pine my only companion.
III.
The forest unwinds, unravels around me
And I am led into a clearing of green, green, green!
Such a landscape has since been elusive in my land,
The trees, shrubs, grasses-- all beam with vibrant life.
A comfortable haven for a weary soul,
The land offers rest and protection from any who may intrude.
The cool ashen shade of shadow calls to my desires,
And I am taken by the darkness of sleep.
IV.
I recall the days of years past:
The days of life, love and happiness.
Days that were shaken and tossed about
As mere ships on an angry sea of emotion;
Such times beheld a radiant glory for me,
Flicked the spark to ignite the flame.
I seek the past for the past
And for those who dream of a future.
V.
Awaken into the light of a new day;
The purifying rays wipe free my slate.
The field of green gave me cover during Night’s passing,
Now it is time to move forth once more.
The wind blows, swaying the grasses in rhythmic motion,
As waves at sea, wrought by a hurricane’s fury, might do.
I walk onward, setting an easy, relaxing pace;
The field stretches on and I turn to follow the birthing light.
VI.
Days wind and unwind,
Time swims by frantically, as if in effort to equalize itself.
These past weeks in the field have been a daze,
The flowers my only nutrition,
But also the push on my back.
The milky euphoria of night sinks into me;
A sappy liquid drools down my cheek
And I am taken into the red field once more.
VII.
The fields lay in the dust of my path,
As new landscape takes hold of my vision.
The great dunes of a vast, ocean-bordered beach,
Constantly harassed by Nature’s striking winds,
Broaden the horizon and raise under my feet.
The east lies before me, my path continuing under the seas.
For now, the south is once more my course
Only to be undertaken in nocturnal hours.
VIII.
My child’s eye was called to the Relic
When I was a mere seven years old,
Some twenty-odd years under the dust of Time.
Exquisite craftsmanship, glorious in it’s golden shell,
Was a treasure to my eye and the eyes of all.
This ring, this beloved godly jewel,
Draupnir; the symbol of Power and Fertility,
Spoke to me, and bid me come.
