Jareth Labyrinth

Half formed

Out of focus

Words linger in my memory

Thoughts awaiting your introspection

Like cold grey slabs of slate

Waiting to be hewn out of the mountain side

Your self-realisation shall liberate

Not just one but of us all

Valleys of mountainsides

Tyrannies and dictatorships

Dales and gullies of gushing emancipation

Whole labyrinths of slate

Maybe, just maybe

One day in time

Perhaps in old age

Or on your deathbed

Or maybe never at all

In hope we shall await

The dawn of your awakening

Like a silent kiss

Softly spoken, planted petal-lipped

Upon the cheek of faerie innocence

That dares to anticipate the rise

Of a brave and wise new Elfin King