of silver chairs and knights unfair/WWN/8/9/06/1137pm


make for me a face

that set the room aflame!

that will kindle curds of a lustful fire

when the witch throws her for the game

in the falme

to the mane

for the fire

and her desire

never ceasing from the north

and then make for me a laugh

that echos cheerily

when the other girls sigh wearily

and my amber eyes see clearly

and my tear is oil on the flame

and here we are again

in this same enchanted game

that know no name

and speaks no cry

but through twlight questions why

and thence make for me a dream

far beyond all talltale

that sends a shock firmly

dissovling the magic fair

the rest upon her hair

and the many faces she'll wear

continualy in my dreams

with laughing lips

that go unkissed

oh send me now a dream

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catherine's picture

you'd have to know me to understand it all. it's really the only way. but i can tell you much of it was insipered by The Silver Chair, which the word amazing does not quite cover describing it's contents. i urge you to find a opy and emerge yourself in one of the greatest experances and gifts i've ever known.

Starward's picture

This is incredibly beautiful as a poem, but I am not entirely sure what it means. Can you give me some help here?