Some loves truly do last forever,
even when the pathways sever

In storybooks
and paintings by pre-raphaelites,
the lonely Knight,
so tired and pale,
forgets his questing for the Grail
and kneels in poignant supplication
gazing at the ivy growing
on the statue, carved in stone,
in honour of a gothic wish
treasured by his lady, lost.

but not all Knights can stay in books
and this Knight has mercurial pride ~
he doesn’t hide,
he mounts and rides,
and holds old love,
a living thing,
beating still inside his breast~
a love that lingers,
doesn’t dwindle,
doesn’t cling.

He doesn’t rest.
Some may think this Knight accursed
but it’s a blessing of his birth.
His feet have unrelenting wings.
He learns to fly.
He yearns to live
and not to die.