I have walked many a year alone
I have see much of life empty
There were those few minutes in between
When I was needed and protected

I was whole

Now I fight to hide a part of me divided
I am present but not always apt to be
I struggle just to put one foot forward
Unsure of what to do without being told

I stumble along

Lately I have dreams of her
The one that gave me purpose
The command of her look and posture
The thoroughness of her rebuke

A fading vision now

I wonder if such things agian will find me
Secluded and silent to claim me without request
Eyes wild and hand firm and demanding
I wonder if I have time to protest

Now I wait again

Life is restless without purpose
Life is short to be fulfilled
A slave addicted to their calling
More whole then any out searching still

A Mistress sees and likes and claims her
Or simply takes of what she feels

An apple for the picking

Varakye



Penned by my hand on the 16th of Tenebrae, in the year 524 AD.