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The home I know best is in my fractured dreams,
And though the path to my door is twisted and dark,
Everything I am is a map of its turns, and I will never be lost.
Come with me now, my only, sweetest love – take my hand,
Here in these darkened corridors, I will burn for you like a light,
And etch your runes and siguls on the walls of my mind.

Not all that is you is yours to share, but how could I mind?
You give your words freely; sometimes I taste your dreams.
To me you are the sword and shield of an age's fading light,
And that rarest, who knows that evil is not one with the dark.
I have read my yesterdays and tomorrows in the lines of your hand,
As you held it outstretched to me when I was wretched and lost.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I was sure that I had lost
Everything good and loving in my hard and canny mind,
Half-convinced I would find claws where once there was a hand,
I chased myself, hunter and hunted, in a forest of dreams,
And spilled my own heart's blood in the measureless dark.
It was your voice that held me, turned me, and led me into the light.

I am lady of my hearth; I tend to and bask in its ancient light
But without you, its fire would be ash, taken by the wind and lost.
You have lent me cantrips against the voices that live in the dark,
Now their substance is thinner than old cobwebs, I pay them no mind.
You have called me magical, and indeed I dwell in myths and dreams,
While you create your own; called from the void by your hand.

A band of moon-white gold you placed on my willing hand.
It seems, like the life and the love we share, carved of light
Its pattern, like leaves unfurling, the intaglio of my deepest dreams.
Taken by itself, just a trinket - like all things, someday it could be lost
But everything it means will shine undiminished in my mind,
Its shape my ritual circle, shutting out despair's clinging dark.

Twilight comes, and the world hues violet, and then dark.
To bed, then, with us – until sleep takes me, I will touch your hand
And whisper to you everything that comes to my day-numbed mind
Surrounded by walls, the moon and stars shed no twinkling light,
Nor mark the sky with their sailor's map. No matter, I cannot be lost.
You are the only star I need to guide my waking and my dreams.

We will wind our way through myriad dreams, both radiant and chilling dark,
But whether we guest with princes or the lost, we go together, hand in hand
And carry with us always our own, sacred light. In this we are of one mind.

We do not see things as they are - we see them as we are. - Anais Nin

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The following comments are for "A Sestina: (..the Dreams of Dark are Lost, your Hand brings Light to Mind...)"
by Chanda

A Wedded Poem
There is some rare quality to this sestina which makes me imagine wedding vows -- not just the conjured image of the ring, but the depth of sentiment carried by each stanza.

I've often remarked across these pages that love poetry is a territory much like a minefield -- rife with cliche, material that's been said and said and said. I think you've tackled an even more difficult gambit through the imagery and language you've used, yet you've managed to do so with such deft and grace I'm beyond enamored of the result.

This is excellent work.

( Posted by: hazelfaern [Member] On: November 9, 2004 )

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