His Vigil

If I could take my thoughts and put them in a glass,
If I could count them out each moment as they pass,
I could fill a sea with thoughts clear and bright,
And one with dark musing that will never see the light.

If I could catch the ghosts that dance at the limits of my mind,
If I could grasp the answers that so many can not find,
Would I find the path made clear as summer day,
Or would I find that there is always more than just one way.

If I would walk the blade between two different worlds,
If I would hold the tide of fates ready to be hurled,
Can I grasp the raged edges of the wound,
And hold back the bleeding heart from passing all too soon.

If I stand in the gap holding a light against the night,
Do I watch for those who are coming broken from the fight,
Or will I stand this vigil in silence and alone,
Waiting for the dust of ages to break down this ancient stone.

Even at the edges of all that most will know,
There is a dark place where few will dare to go,
But in this place one waits with arms held open wide,
A torch in one hand and a sword by his side.

One half in heaven and one half in hell,
Privy to secrets that he can never tell,
He waits hand outstretched for she who bares the shield,
His gift to wage the war hers to see them healed.

Two worlds mix twisted and confused,
The truth has been lost beaten and abused,
Too much stands in the balance more than he can grasp,
The gap must be filled before the hour is past.

The darkness pours down beating against the stone,
A warrior stands and waits his vigil held alone.
 
          Marcus Silverhand November 2009

Visions: A nightmare banished.

I stir while the mornings still cold. Roused from my sleep by a whimper, slipped from the lips of the tiny form that curls so sweetly into my side.

Laying quietly I listen, my hand gently tracing circles on your back. My breathing steady, my heartbeat strong, both a comfort to your restless mind.

Pressing my lips softly to your silken tresses I kiss them, whispering soft shhhs into your hair. My caress gentle and reassuring as I feel the warmth of your skin under my fingertips.

I smile as your body settles. Your hand shifting up onto my chest. Your head turning and nestling a little tighter into my shoulder. Your long leg coming up to wrap around mine.

Lifting my head so slightly I look down your beautiful feminine form. Savoring the lines of your body under the satin sheet while I breath deep the sweet scent of your hair.

The curve of your hip so perfectly fitted to my hand. Your thigh drawn up over my leg, wrapped around me possessively. The dip at your waist and the small of your back, favorite places that my lips find often. The swell of your breast, firm and always enticing, rising slowly with each breath.

Sliding the sheet so slightly down your body I expose your side to the cool air. Watching skin warmed by my flesh dimple to the kiss of the night. Savoring the sight of your nipple hardening to a little bud, begging for my lips to suckle it.

My hand comes up, fingertips slowly circling that little nub. Teasing out a gentle moan, a precious sound that I adore. Feeling your breath quicken and your skin pulse under my touch. Savoring the little shiver that runs up your spin.

I trace my fingertip across the bruise that marks the side of your breast, fading now but soon to be marked anew. I slip your nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting slowly gently, just enough to set your body on fire but not yet to wake your mind.

I feel your leg squeeze tighter against mine, your hand instinctively straying down to my groin. I twist just bit harder and smile as your eyes slip open.

A look of love, a look of lust, a sure knowledge that you are mine fills them. And a nightmare gives way to your place in my arms.

           Copyright Silverhand October 2009