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1	Santharian World Development / The Santharian Library / While Lotanns Greet the Summer Air	on: 09 June 2008, 23:51:13
Why do I think of barren lands and frost while lotanns greet the summer air? Why do I bend my head and feel so lost despite the Dream I love to share? Why? It was winter's fist which threw an icy ball far in the spring. My saddened soul had hoped anew but now - no sanguine bird does sing. What did I wrong? I ask me now - could my commitment, even love be understood so wrongly, how am I to keep my joy, my troth? I think of barren lands and frost while lotanns greet the summer air. I bend my head for I am lost, not able anymore to share a Dream. Sad Poet 4TH RISING SUN, 1668 A.S. [/size]

2	Santharian World Development / The Santharian Library / Re: Quatern	on: 01 February 2007, 18:07:39
A last quatern Acquaintance It‘s hard to lose a trusted friend no matter if he only goes to live at new found, alien shores or if you have to say your last good-bye, your eyes will fill with tears: it‘s hard to lose a trusted friend. But I believe it‘s harder still to realise that those you thought were friends turn out to be just mere acquaintance; sadness fills your heart. It‘s hard to lose a trusted friend, for if a friend has left, you still have pleasant memories to soothe your grief, whereas you‘re left alone when friendship was just business - then it‘s hard to lose a trusted friend. Sad Poet

3	Santharian World Development / The Santharian Library / Re: Quatern	on: 25 January 2007, 19:19:19
Free form, maybe a bit too prosaic. No title. I had hoped for a word or two, not more to dispel my doubts to south my sorrows to chase away all things which tore my heart apart. I had hoped when speaking out my sorrow that problems could be solved, differences cleared and maybe tomorrow would bring us together again. I had hoped the hands a few friends offered would hold me tight. But the darkwinds blew, my grip lost its power and Injèrá ceased to shine . I waited endlessly for a word or two, not more, telling me that my cry was heard. Words arrived, at last, but not the word or two I had hoped for. I waited for this word or two, till dolour turned to languidness. Once I lived inside a dream as it lived inside me and I believed it would be so forever. Not anymore. Every day without that word I waited for pushed me away. I blamed the darkwinds homing our souls but now I know that even though they stopped to blow: The void inside ourselves kills dreams. ************************************* I am not longer drifting away from what I once had called my home, where my soul had settled. I am not longer sailing the unforgiving void far past Injèrá‘s paths. But nothing has changed to the better. Now I walk the lands which I once owned as guest, I try to help, but my hands and fingers tremble. Standing in darkness, hidden by high trees, I look at a house, a castle, with windows lit so brightly - but the door is closed. Inside people are laughing, old faces celebrating with new ones; and I cry. Once I belonged to them, now the key of lacking understanding and the irons of disregard lock the door from the inside. I am longing to be there, staring. A side door - there, small and hidden. Too small though for my heart, which, while I slip in, stays back between the dark trees. ****************************************** I still hope, for a word or two, not more which could open the locked door and let me in again. Avá, don‘t open your eyes. Dream me back before it is too late for the ties, they weaken and I feel I‘m fading into the naught, the nothingness. What is left from me is not more than a tiny spark which is prone to die in the deadness of the void. Avá, dream me back...

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