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Forgotten Ground Regained

Excerpt from The Redemption of Daeron

Paul D. Deane
Slowly she stepped back, brokeHis arms' encirclement, raised both wristsTo hold her hair back from her face.'Alas, my lord, my tale is not full told;Nor have I named my folly fullyYet:-- I dare to dream again, you see, ---- And now my heart is set --On thee.'
'How can I help myself, silenceMy heart? How then deny what nowPulls me apart? Pity me, pardon me,Call me half-crazed: dazed or a dreamer,I plead no defense!'-- Either fate made me love you, ---- Or lack of sense!' --
'I have sense though to see your courage to care!For where would I be now if grief and despairWere as strong in your soul as they seem in your words?How can I help that my heartstrings are stirredLike a harp in your hand, like the wind of your voice?How can I stand-- What a heart strung with steel ---- could hardly withstand?' –
'How long, my lord, will dreams be your drink,Your food a fantasy of love, your lifeAn echo of passions past? I am,I live, I love! Touch me, I tremble!Speak, and I hear!-- Forsake the dark waters! –-- Leave Death on her bier!' --
He stood as still as absence. Over themThe moments moved like sails against the sunWhere red horizons run past solemn seas.Her face before him oval might have veiledThe moon, or mirrored in his eyesBecome a pale yet perfect star.Time changed: his fingers framed her cheeks,His lips burned lightly on her browAnd head,-- and all else stopped –-- until he said: --
'Nèhaléni, no: you ask too much.Is there love after Lúthien? I cannot stretch so farPast hurt with a heart so scarred, and numb.Perhaps - perhaps - yet I stumble on old griefs,Pick my way past painful reefs of memoryAnd find myself a stranger to the scenery of joy.Passionate, compassionate, beautiful, brave, Thou art these and more. If only –No, Nèhaléni! Raise your child,May life and laughter piled togetherBe your blessing whether I am farOr near – enough, I cannot face farewells.Take this, for thou wilt keep it well,For mirth, for merriment, for celebrationWhile healing years and seasons turn,-- and then, perhaps, ---- my heart return,' --
She felt his hand upon hers, feltSomething light, metallic slide thereAs she blinked back tears. He turned:She stared irresolute.-- He was gone, so she stood there, ---- And cradled his flute. –
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