long before the lonely whale was discovered,
before the lilacs bloomed,
before you started to savour ice,
i danced for the first knight.
have you been there?
to the veiled prince's grave?
he never saw it coming,
it's the butterfly who told him,
to go away, to not sing, to not be.
the veil is what you see,
it's an imprint,
a relic,
him.
a story,
a lost legend,
don't worry, he lies still.
the veiled prince, engaged to a prince,
a lost pact, a sinful promise perhaps.
it's the air who sings now,
it's a bland taste, it's a useless flow,
a song hides there, a cry whispered long ago.
before the lilacs bloomed,
will you go there before the lonely whale dies?
written by. Han
painting by. Clarence Gagnon (Twilight, 1913)
Han, like the river Han, finds themself flowing through life while cutting out their own path and identity through the surrounding rigid structures. Han is an introvert and a music addict, they are an English Literature graduate but find themselves too interested in philosophy, history and other arts to specify their field of interest. Their poems are confessions and support systems they have maintained for years.
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