foreign to my own form
these runes I hardly recall.
Through heart's tempests and dark clouds,
the mysteries from mind have been shrouded.
Tossed by the seas, forlorn rolling
in currents barely fathomed, how
from my noble hue far
have I fallen, concealed within
a dark and shameful shape, a
brute monster of the seas, whose furies
merely glimpses through fog-laden dreams
of glories once held in my hands, beheld
with high browed eyes, now frightful
flashes of terrible torment. I gnash
my tusks, and tumble in the waves.
Love once held me, and I, true to her,
held wide kingdoms, warmth
of companions, jewels made
marvel in the purity of love.
Now all that is gone. I am exile,
seems to beastly mind the fair
face of love I'll never know again.
Will the waves will her grasping
that apple-bough I gnawed so crudely?
If water wills, will understanding
greet her heart upon her read?
Or will it float forever, never found,
or found, discarded, left with scorn?
Such awful animal cries of moan
rasp out strangely from my throat.
I wish a bettering might be bought,
if only mind would let recall
teach me how to pray again. I'd pray,
each and every day, in barks
and howls of salty raspings.