Patiently still I listen and lay
For a creature of sand to come and say,
“To sleep with you, you weary wretch!
There are eerie dreams for you to sketch!”
A dark and warm inviting gaze
Emerges from blue twilight haze.
Heavy, my body sinks in a heap;
Weightless, I float through dizzying sleep.
Dream, young man. For your days are many.
But rest in the night while the world is uncanny.
That pulse is so loud; a thick throb in my ear.
Then silence twists through and there’s nothing to hear.
Cold, biting winds drag me slowly from slumber
With gusty white hands and my bed becomes sombre.
Grey in the light of a cold, rainy morning.
Please let me sleep more – away from the dawning.
The Composer grows weary.
But fret not, my deary!
For in his dreams and slumbers
Come his greatest scores and numbers…
Let me introduce a lad that I know. He’s really quite nice, though it may not show. His face and attire could give you a start; with spider leg hair – his name is Art.
No doubt he’ll be showing up on this site every now and then…. What better time for you to meet him?
Reading over a few scraps from years ago I stumbled across this poem. I realise now that this poem must have been an early prototype for the ideas behind Tenebrae Manor. This was a dream I had that was so vivid it became what you see below. The best ideas come in sleep, a place where anything can come from nothing.
Inside and under these dark canopies
No light can hope to penetrate.
The air is dry and the call of crows
Echoes through sombre shadowed leaves.
My boots disrupt with a crunching sound
The pine needles long since fallen.
The emaciated branches reach forth
For a reply that will never be found.
Staggering blindly, the air is hot.
Could I hope for a fire to pierce the dark?
One could tell that the sun shone somewhere,
But its warmth on my face I’ve long since forgot.
A being has taken up residence here
In an old and elegant house.
But shattered windows and doors left ajar,
Long abandoned it is, I must fear.
Can I hope to escape the eternal night?
With silence so loud
And darkness so bleak
In the trees that have exiled light?
Tree bark, dagger sharp,
Cutting out the jigsaw sky
To other-worldly drape
Scattered fallen wooden tokens
Sudden star-struck floor.
Rounded, fragile floating leaves
Of green and verdant lure.
Life alone or death surrounding
Dancing, closing in.
Glassy shimmer, distant bay,
Renegade of sin.
Aimless ribald vagabond
Skipping all the while.
Indifferent to what will come,
I wander as a child.
Arachnids – hairy, gaunt, producing
Moribund dreamy prose.
Maudlin reminiscing mind
Blooms hypnagogic rose.