Frankish Vision IV: Fantôme

There is a ghost in this house

There is a ghost in this castle

It can be heard when no one opens their mouth

It can be felt when no one speaks at the dinner table

There is a haunting presence

It is felt in the blooming flowers of the printemps

It is felt in the miserable, burning été, without stop

It is felt in the splendour of l’automne

But it is especially felt in l’hiver, when you thought it was gone

It does not want vengeance

I see her sitting on the empty chair

In the kitchen, I see her fretting with her hair

I see her playing with her childern, the memory

Through the fields and streets, I feel the lingering energy

She wants justice, closure

That you will never give her

So I am haunted, in your stead

And so shall I be, to this injustice,

wed

This universe that exists spans the bredth of that which will make you burn

You will be taught to unlearn

I yearn for that which I must learn

And so, to God I go, sword in hand, to Carolingian graves, to make me turn

Amen

Frankish Vision III: Clothilda

This moment is her glory

She shines bright in the morning

Giving arms to the radiance around her

Giving alms to the daughters that found her

For seven years, she has worked to destroy

The shadow tower you tried to build over her joy

Every brick a cruelty, every wall, lain with her stress

And yet now she stands before you in golden dress

An address;

The tower has been illumined away

The knowledge and prosperity made the mortar sway

Until all your groomed evil’s weight collapsed

You cannot escape from your new Tolbiacs

Yet, still she comes to you and raises an offering, open hand

And you remember the moment’s stare, in distant land

When the both of you sat across from each other

And pleadingly, she sought truth you would not offer

Please, please be my lover;

It was difficult, to escape the lie of your wing

To unchain herself from your taunts and stings

But she persevered against your relentless sneer

All the courage of the archangels to free from fear

And yet, she understands the power of forgiveness

And for those she shelters, a light through the mists

You kneel to her now, as all will at St. Genevive

Married now to a new, beautiful light and eve

She is the bride of courageous peace

This universe that exists spans the bredth of that which will make you burn

You will be taught to unlearn

I yearn for that which I must learn

And so, to God I go, sword in hand, to Carolingian graves, to make me turn

Amen

Frankish Vision II: Hiver

What constellation, draped softly over form

What distant cries of magi, drifting and worn

‘Neath wolf and bearskin rugs, comfortable and warm

Yet in memorance, tidings forlorn

In Aachen, in moonlight shorne as the palace doth tremble

In Martinopolis, river sigh as chants bore from chalice wrought treble

In the borderlands, frost pretty upon the ancient Goth temple

Yet in preparence, bindings forewarned

Forget the sweeping rain, child has passed

Forget the need for soup, uncle has passed

Forget the beauty, I above have fast

But entwined with thine, I love and laugh

And so, I cannot forget what nigh relapse

For in this sea of beauty, I have completed many laps

And the oaks are my anchors, ice & sharp pine the frame

Hiver has come, soothe is thy name

This universe that exists spans the bredth of that which will make you burn

You will be taught to unlearn

I yearn for that which I must learn

And so, to God I go, sword in hand, to Carolingian graves, to make me turn

Amen

Frankish Vision I: Liutgard

Against my brow, upon ground now long hallowed

My heart beats in tandem with the drinks of wine bottles so shallowed

I hear calls from beyond bar door frames yelling “hall’o!”

Yet on this dark road I, myself shall not allow

For instead I feel hollow upon ground long lay fallow

By constricting knives of asphalt and concrete

I know deep beneath lie ancient seeds to flowers sweet

Of a land where life is good and love is as strong mead

But instead I carry on to my abode, alone

I tarry to kitchen, alone, to couch, alone, to bed, so alone

“This does not bode well,” I intone in my temple

Once upon a time, I remember a friend, with laugh fair and smile gentle

Who held my hand in hers-but now she is gone and my heart doth tremble

Yet no one is to blame, just the passing of re’membrance

Remove the ghostly hands to forget thine distant embrace

Run my hands through my locks and against my face

As I sit at my wine stained table and close my eyes

I close my eyes and comfort myself in dimming shroud

My breath slows and the cars and random club songs become not so loud

A darkening cloth of rest, conscious, no longer at test

The melting of the walls and bookshelves

As the walls to my mansion erase themselves

And replace, with forests mighty and castles great

I stand up and partake in the sights of ancient length

Not far is a glowing ocean, vast, and adroit, a gold tower of sublime make

Upon a mountain, towering with mist, rain and fortitude

Towards it I go, with no intention of intrude

With confidence, I walk with sword, shoes, and cloak of blue

With intense, I fight and defeat routiers and wolves

And without incensed sense, I pass time with elks but not with drunken fools

As I ascend, walking past mud and stone

To the shining door, I reach, alone-always alone

And into a hall, long and made with diamond

Around me, sweet sounding, bells that are chiming

Lily and rose petals start falling as I begin climbing

Distant memories of love, endless, unbounding

Begin resounding

In an empty hearth where my heart’s

Fire was lit, rebounding light to tear the darkness apart

And reforge the shards of my quintessence

I remember my mother’s guiding lessons

My mind is calm, prepared for any and all repentance

As I push open a final, silver door-lavender scents

And music fills the air, as there, not far and against a window

Stands a maiden fair overlooking the crescending meadows

She is tall, her hair bright like a spindle

She puts down on a nearby bench, a fiddle

She shines, especially in the midnight moon’s light

Her hair falls down the span of her pale back

In artisan-like, royal elegance-braided with excellence and delight

I approach, slowly and cautiously, no course to retrack

When at last I am by her side, I announce my gentle tidings

And to my surprise, she turns and wraps her arms around me in kindness

Shock gives way to tears in my eyes, yes

As she calmly reassures me that all will be well,

To trust and love with God, and the loneliness in my soul will not dwell

Undo the bindings of resentment entrenched in my matter, get up from where you fell

Live life as the story you wish to tell

And to make no sell of character that would unseam

And I embrace her tightly, this forgiving queen

In this palace room, grand and clean

Like the Aachen air, warm as that of steam

And to be in the arms of a woman again, fills my heart with joy

And to hold her in mine fills my marrow with joy

And for a moment we sway in the calm breeze, not alone

Like the meeting of the  Isère and Rhone

Holding each other, feeling sincere, not alone

I hold her dear

But then I turn to gaze at her features

And I find that I cannot see the grace of her features

Even in fine starlight I cannot find her face

In this shining, immaculate place

“My love, why can I not see you clearly,” I ask

And she told me, “My love, your heart is kind and can make the task,

But how can you profess to call me love

When you have yet to know that which is?”

This universe that exists spans the bredth of that which will make you burn

You will be taught to unlearn

I yearn for that which I must learn

And so, to God I go, sword in hand, to Carolingian graves, to make me turn

Amen