Maid Marian

a story by suite20seven designs and david allegretti

Maid Marian

On a cold winter night she lies, To the stars she confides, and wonders ever deeply the purpose of the self,

The mind and the ego, wrapped in her human shell Books on the shelf Serve, reminders, time and its blinders,

Of thought ever longing of once, now belonging and shivers of the frost which seem to melt heartfelt and still

the waters of her innermost conscious which flow outwardly, inwardly she ponders. and rescuers amass beneath her once reached echoes of childlike abandon

a look that swings from discontent to rage as plastered are the memories and shortcomings of age and still it creeps the ever present melancholy of a joyful priest which once ruled his land now festering beneath the slaves

for he too ponders and seeks out the mist, the waves of misfortune spare no man, of no myth nor legend be helped for she now is one, And gone is the mist which brings about cold morning and a slightest of hint

her presence now gone, The priest now longs for the eons once worshipped now disappeared like slow desert mirages into the inner realm.

its here she lies, and confides ever quietly, heaven parts by voice she reasons, and so continues the dance of space and seasons

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