The violets had been bought for the green-eyed lady.
However, I had arrived beyond late…
Within moments, she reigned upon my mind…
And, later, she had gone.
Trickling down…
Such as forgotten words to her favorite song.
Soon I began to misplace her solemn heirlooms.
After,
stories and tales the green-eyed lady had gifted me.
Then ashes turned to ashes.
Dust to dust.
And,
in finality…
Nothing had been worth remembering.
Stone turned to rust.
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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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