If the world should continue to fall into decay…would it continue to break me?
Or, would it be the love, I could no longer retrieve?
How easy would it be to dismiss the beauty…
Watch it bleed.
Witness it leave.
How infantile…these notions with branded courage.
Youthful toys building an Armageddon in the mind.
They were only no plastic friends.
Young, my tomorrow’s tomorrow…had no end.
Still, and now, when I play the mature kind…
How difficult it is to witness love and beauty bleed.
Watch them as they leave.
Who will provide the grand design, what is yours and what is mine?
‘Cause there is no more new frontier, we have got to make it here!
We satisfy our endless needs and justify our bloody deeds.
In the name of destiny and in the name of God.
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