for me,

Invocation to Misery

here i yell, here i ye; here i am.
to the God of Grief, i ask you to heal
what more pain lies inside of me.
if i were to lay out these beautiful servings in front of you
would your eyes yield me?

i cannot begin to word the beginnings of what is my ending,
to speak out the whens and whence of all my misery.
if He were to be the one that calls upon me,
to remove the space between a hold in heart and a whisper in mind - please, let him comfort me.

these embodiments of You only remind me,
of the things I've lost and more to come.
He told me to go far away,
where Heaven can nurture me?
if i only let myself lay in his arms, then perhaps even with a love as dull - i wouldn't have to be so lonely.

the poet exclaims for me to feel happy
that if only i sit by his thigh, i can finally see.
He speaks of himself as if he is higher thee,
of woe - he will never define.
of course he will not, for even in sadness he feel light.
the woman he betrayed lies in his thoughts, of water and blood; he defies the lot.
can you not tell me what it is grief does?
for you cannot understand, simply you just can not.

i seek a remnance of what You are,
for if all the words my tongue will thaw - then perhaps you can see where my 'choly sings high
but your eyes are blocked, what more can i sigh?

but please,
continue as you will.
comfort me, the Man in Nature
who have kissed thy's own lips
and call upon me
death.

before time come steal me away
before tide come drown me a bay
you have only 'til midnight
before you come see me away.

- shelley could never understand misery if it looked him in the eye and asked him to stay