cloven clover

Tell me
    You’re bored.
        Convince me
          You’ve lost
            That fightin’ feeling.
              Evince me your sword,
              The one you sheathed
            For lack of horror-horde;
         And I’ll shake, for now,
      This shield from my arm.
  Though whist-reeling,
      I’m kiss-callused to harm.
          Still, whisper you’re alone;
            Step gently to me.
              Unclench the stone
                That minds your melody—
                Nakedly, now,
              Through whip-of-wind,
            Through the blinds-of-rain.
        I’m just a wretch,
    Blackened to blue,
         In e’ery dream’s disdain
            For pained experience:
              It’s true, I’ve been there
                On the tongue of dealt-distance,
                  ‘Twixt the teeth
                  Of each welt-raising instance.
                Inch-risk it—you’ve gotten closer
              Than anyone else;
          But this withered clover—
      I’m ‘haps too ghostly to share it:
          Vanishing, mostly invisible;
              So dare over, love, and tear it in two,
                Pinch it into an imperfect pair.
                  I’m all but invincible
                    In my gauntlet, too;
                    I’ve been nowhere
                  Already,
                Yet everywhere
          With you.

Music: Lindsey Stirling’s breath-taking violin-interpretation of Yiruma’s River Flows In You, original to his 2001 album First Love. To my ears, both are near-peerless.

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