Keeper

Sometimes words assail the speaker –

turn to stories or regret.

Sometimes truth will seize the seeker

and he‘ll shiver and forget.

There‘s a voice in surf and thunder,

there are eyes that pierce the day.

None can name it, it‘s the same at

every forking of the way –

I‘m the keeper.

I‘m the guardian of the tale (I‘m the stranger on the trail).

I‘m the reaper

and the sewer of your sail.

I‘m no god and yet I sire by believing what I see.

I‘m the keeper, you‘re the sleeper

and your dreams belong to me.

There‘s no guise to what I‘m giving,

I am coin and card and wheel.

Nothing‘s lost while I am living.

No one misses what I steal.

Thus I cower, culling secrets,

as I braid the paths you tread.

I forge your fears, I count your tears

and cry the ones that go unshed.

I‘m the singer.

As I sing my tales unfold (times and passions yet untold):

words that linger

while there‘s beauty to behold.

So you light your nights with meaning, dreams like little boats at sea –

time may wear them, grief may tear them,

but they still belong to me.

* * *

I‘m a fancy.

You may never realize (just a flicker in your eyes)

dreams are chancy

and all memories are lies.

In the echo of your whispers dies the truth you never knew:

Grief goes deeper – I‘m the keeper –

but my dreams belong to you.

Eva 2008