they said that you had fallen away
no longer interested in the Beautiful
from the ancient texts,
taking nothing visionary
ever anymore
I wept in corners
finding no other place to grieve.
slowly the shadows turned garnet
and I stopped.
how can I come to an understanding
that you would depart after long days
the golden apples within your grasp
the Phoenix feather, the maytime weather
and all the storied past and turn away
to favor lean times
like Nebuchadnezzar,
eating the grass or content merely
to pluck ghost apples or just let them tumble
from the withered trees.
no longer the squire.
the aspirant knight
living in darkness
and thinking it light.
mary angela douglas 5 february 2023
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