This is a poem me and my colleague wrote.
~Wandering Soul of a Meadow Yonder~
Love yee’st time, sent to weep thine heart.
beauty is not a skill, but an art
thou hast in thine grips of frolicking emancipation
the flowery maiden of sweet nightengale’s dew
crests upon thy sheath of tender scents of you
the love of wandering maiden upon the meadows brings
the only sound i hear is the beauty of the song she sings
a maiden so sweet she doth forbode the flower
fair woman, the locks of divine fate close in an hour
A sensual touch renders a severed love anew,
Aye, thine mistress shadows lost, fair well, adieu.
“it’s really quite simple. i’m posing the question ‘what is emotion?’ you understand? see, the transfiguration is really just a means to an end, the ends being emotion - transubstantiation if you will”
-Michael Freeman
“well its a semi-autobiographical piece involving a lost love. Hasnt it happened to everyone? Using imagery to depict the feelings of loves absence..”
-Vincent Robbins