A memory of my early youth
Into the mirror of mine dreams
my tear-worn eyes go long.
Narcissus of heart's fantasie
doth weave this lonely soul.
Lost in the world of phantom feels
I'm luck-spurned castaway.
Another to my bosom's core
will never seek the way.
What is this mad entrapment here,
this prison of the self,
that only to the self may speak,
as to a cockroach sharing cell.
What good are words if there's no ear
That longs to hear my voice?
How far, pray tell, or just how near
Is one I'm looking for?
No fire deep in Acheron
could cause a wound or bind
To soul that in another soul
Companionship may find.
No curse 'pon bloodline strong enough,
No wandering 'cross the land,
would see me suffer stronger pain
Than lacking other's hand.
Shall I then conjure from my mind,
The fancies of my taste?
Must I illusion thus evoke
To calm my sorrow's aches?
If Heaven might concede one thing,
and one, no more I'll say,
I beg with love of unknown pair,
please send the one my way.