The One Whose Lives Are Too Many

Heulwen lived in a gilded cage

Filled with nothing but her rage

Not one single sight could make her smile

Plagued by a King she loved somewhile

Between the bars she dares to look

Wishing for the one whose heart she took

Heulwen finds a crown of lace

Abandoned in an angry haste

She dons the crown of unbridled hate

And weeps, growing life into a land desolate

The gilded cage from which she breaks free

Falls to the sands and canyons deep

Dares The King to imprison her now

Queen Heulwen, who dons the Loathesome Crown

Some mornings she is a nomad in the wastes

Other evenings she is fleeing in haste

Heulwen sees what others wish not

All the shimmers, the summers, the Rot

Life as truly as life will get

Sunshine and gold she’s willing to bet

She cannot give what isn’t hers

But Heulwen would trade lace for burs

Dreams never found her peace

Stars haunt her every week

Demons dwell outside her eyes

But still visible in her line of sight

Heulwen is lonely but never alone

Even in her shell of moss, glass, and stone

Singular siren singing slow

Call the hopeless from their home

Give names to those who lost too much

To hate and love and death and such

Girls and boys and children in between

Tell her their deepest, darkest, most secret dreams

Of bodies trampled, hearts shattered, minds crushed

Heulwen searches through the rubble, movements rushed

Trying to find the last little part that cries to The Crow

The little dreamless children give into The Sorrow

Heulwen was once an innocent, untouched by the Sight

But now she owes her life to the beings she sees without light

She carves secrets in her skin with bone

Made of moss, made of glass, made of stone

The King was once a little child

Who danced in glens with fae for friends, always a little wild

Heulwen Dewydd was his name

And everyone knew his claim to fame

He slew the dreaded giant in the sky

Stabbed him and left him there to die

Slayed the Nemean Lion and drank the sea

Bound Fenrir in the chains Gleipnir and saddled a kelpie

Wooed Cupid and killed a god

Never loosing his way when travelling with stray sods

Heulwen said he had done all of that and more

He said he carved a door

So others could be great

Heulwen claimed he did all of this at eight

The Queen was feared

The Queen was revered

No one dared approach her lands

Or else they’d die at her hands

No bug or insect would lead her wrong

Still she heard that lovely faint song

Heulwen chased and chased and chased that tune

She only succeeded in making herself a loon

Searching and searching for cities with towers

Finding and finding only trees and clovers

Dawn and dawn and dawn again

Always found enemies and never friends

Heulwen was lonely but never alone

Body of Moss, Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

A poet, a warrior, a king

All tied together by a crystalline ring

The Thoughts, The Actions, The Speech

Heulwen sits at the top of the beech

Shrouded in foliage and mist

Wondering which of her actually exist

Purple hyacinths and forget-me-nots

Crest her hair and now she rots

She remembers a gilded cage

And an unbridled rage

A crown of lace

And vanishing snowflakes

The Loathesome Crown

The Queen that Drown

Heulwen’s mossen body weary

Her songs sung low and dreary

Her glass cracked

Her stone shattered

One thought that kept her awake

That Poet, That Warrior, That King is her fate

When Heulwen Dewydd opens her eyes

She wishes she could touch the skies

Running down the valley and hills

Hair flying back while a crow trills

She wants to fly

She wants to die

If she fades then maybe she will remember

Who she was and be filled with wonder

Heulwen Dewydd lived in the only mushroom around in the snow

He lived far far into the mountains, did you know

Heulwen Dewydd was a poet, a warrior, a king

But sadly sadly a leader without his signet ring

Cannot guide his kingdom

He cannot guide his home

The disgraced poet cannot sing

The shunned warrior doesn’t sting

The exiled king will not stay

The banished Heulwen Dewydd had run away

By the grace of the birds

He can remember his poems words

He is lonely but never alone

Made of Moss, made of Glass, made of Stone

A while a while a while ago

Before the trees and seas and snow

Before the lands that we all knew

There was one thing that grew

They talked in riddles and painted in rhymes

They have lived since the dawn of time

Feeding on nightmares and feeding on dreams

They said that ideas and minds taste sweet

Sleek and black and never shy

That strange creature caught my eye

They built me without using bone

Body of Moss, Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

They lived alone in a singular tower

Filled with books that gave them power

Heulwen read every single tome

And never once left their home

From far and far away ago

Came a huge sleek black crow

His eyes were the colour of amber

And he came, warning Heulwen of danger

They curled up among their tomes and graced him with a smile

Saying that they were the only one around for many a mile

Heulwen Dewydd gave him shiny trinkets and baubles

A little something for the crow’s troubles

But there was something on its way

Someone who loathed the Fae

The King Encased in Moss, Glass, and Stone

Sits on his royal Throne of Bone

Never moving, ever watching

Heart filling with hatred, waiting

The King bides his time well

Till he could move again and reign down hell

The Warrior Crafted in Moss, Glass and Stone

Would kill and kill as any woman will, with weapons made of bone

In the town, she sighs, she wanted to be in the sea

Cold and lifeless and asleep

The Poet Written in Moss, Glass, and Stone

Tells stories and crafts worlds out of ivory bone

The Poet only thinks, only writes

That’s all that’s all, writing deep into the night

The Queen who dons The Loathsome Crown

The Siren who sings to the kids she drowns

The King who hated the Fae

And The King who danced with them all day

The Nomad who travelled far and wide

The Queen who was feared and revered from tide to tide

The King who was banished and lived in mountains so snowy

The Thing that builds and The Wonderer who would dream

A poet a warrior a king

Tied together by a Crystalline Ring

And a Wreath of Bone

Body of Moss, Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

Heulwen Dewydd had lived too many lives

Out they finally step into the sunshine