The passion of orange, amber, yellow and rust;
A vestige of psyche the returning of dusk;
Thunderous hooves tearing sod from ground;
The Pumping of life force to a mystical sound;
That strobes through sinew, bone muscle and flesh;
Though earthbound a rainbow with colouring enmeshes;
I stand at the grave side of dreams from the past;
With future in charcoal and quondam I cast;
Not draped in riches nor robed like a king;
The simple the nothing is all that I bring;
I survey from a pinnacle like a mountainous tower;
While upon condors wing the prey waits its hour;
So sup deep from thy chalices lest thou memoirs forlorn;
Quoth not from the Raven welcomes velvet the dawn;
By David de Roeck
(this was penned for Olivia one day at the castle.)
