I could exhaust many a thing
the stinging, pelts of rain
the ferreted holes to the world below
strident waters, black and deeper than thought
matter deliberately flung to the ground
yet, cannot be sought.
Diminished is my way when I am not free to walk.
In transient, stillness down a one way path, I find myself unable to look back.
I could exhaust many a thing
never to repeat all that is scattered behind me.
Random thoughts, poems, and opinions. *Opinions are subject to change. - Nathan Harrell
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I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts
And he saith vnto them, Follow mee: and I will make you fishers of men. Matthew 4:19 (1611 KJV)
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