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Fate, Love, and Innocence Scorned
Copyright 2016 Serenity Williams
Published by Serenity Williams at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away
to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional
copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your
own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


Anthology Contents
Echo's Lamentation
The Human Race
Moonlit Maiden
A Withered Waltz
Our Circle
Our Garden Visits
Perversion of Light
The Bookie
Stigmata of a Sorry Skeptic
A Ship and Her Harbor
A Carol of Summer's Love
Grave Memories
Introspect Dominion
To the Droplet on My Lover's Casket
The Flower in My Bedroom Window
The Light Before the Morrow
Long Last
Romance in Ramble
About the Author


Echo’s Lamentation
What tresses spun of finest silk Athene darest to bind,
What eyes of rich mahogany that pierce the depths of mine!
What lust lies deep in trust to meet the hand of this Adonis,
Lips to speak the vows and keep our spirits tied in promise!

Narcissus the bold!
Narcissus the vain!
A golden statue born to bring me agony and pain!
I find no fault in fam’ed form, as fair as Triton’s seas,
So sure as all the heavens hail, the failings lie in me.
To cry and cry, with no avail, a shadow shyly bleating,
Cast away, I lastly pray may some god hear my pleading!

Narcissus the far!
Narcissus the cold!
Your frigid shoulder has me held in tragedy untold!

And so I leave you with a voice, rent from body still,
The only words a mockery, kept living in my will,
A phantom of a fading face that faltered as unseen,
An evanescent echo of a godforsaken dream.


The Human Race
I awoke to dark to find five-thousand feet upon the path,
Fleeing from the unseen hind that lay forsaken, kin to wrath.
And, unthinking, I too ran, without a hope, without a plan.

A thousand fell in frozen blunder, bound by blight of heavy heart.
And so the souls were swept asunder, by their sons were rent apart.
Into the black the corpses thrown, fed to anger by their own.

But then, in moving mass, I felt to move no more, to halt my pace.
So there I slowed myself, and knelt, and bared my eyes for what I faced.
What glory shown in joyous light, hid behind us from our sight!

But on the sorry escapade did forge its way along the path,
Driven by a joyless shade, a figment of imagined wrath.
Lay down your blinders, halt your feet, your very race is obsolete!
Fear not to slow, but turn to see, for life itself is what we flee!


How can a soul alive be so alone,
A silken heart that aches without a salutary home,
That bears a pain itself cannot atone?
I don’t know.

How can the smiling hands be out of reach,
Why can’t I ever practice what I preach,
Though endlessly for succor, I ardently beseech?
I don’t know.

How can rest bring no insights from within,
Though thoughts delightfully delirious ease in
To dance with all my shadows on the darkest of my whims?
I don’t know.

Pain isn’t something only one can feel, I know.
And when it comes to feelings, well, we reap what we doth sow.
But still I willfully insist to stay below,
I don’t know why.
I try to fly.
But back to earth I go.


Moonlit Maiden
Up she ascended the parapet high,
The air as still as a distant dream.

Lifting her arms, she embraced the sky,
And shattered the silence with her scream.

Fast she fell through the icy air,
Her windswept hair about her face,

Her noble features wane and fair,
A testament to lasting grace.

Some whispers in the court, I’m told,
Of love abandoned for another.

Her passion lit by a bonnie man,
Then turned to stone by his secret lover.

So down she flew to the rocks below,
Her silhouette adorned by mist,

Her soul awrack in piteous throes,
Her traitor’s name upon her lips.


A Withered Waltz
See the dancers as they twirl, as they swirl in solemn wonder!
Borne aloft on stilts of cherry built to carry from the ground,
Which lays below, unfurled from yesterdays repaid in harsh tomorrows,
Borrowed words and sorrowed pain which lies behind the masks so cold!

As I watch awash in meadows damped with shadows cast from thunder
Blasting forth from far off yonder, over hills of long ago,
In its peals I hear my blunders, fumbles formed from young disasters,
Tragic casts of dice which lasted only for my pain to grow.

Lo, I wish I had devices craft so vices cannot master!
But the rain keeps falling faster, threatening to flood my soul,
And so I stare, inane recaster lost in blood that taints my hands,
In envy of the pallid dancers prancing high above the whole!

Oh how I wish my heart was frozen, lost and lonesome in the air,
With masks to hide my lies and passion, chosen white in starkest fashion,
Darkest capes and tallest stilts to leave the earth with lolling tilt,
Impare my feelings, make them darker, chill my spirit, make it harder,
And with my pain my demons barter off humanity for ill!


Our Circle
We sit in a circle of sweet sanctuary,
Slowly comparing the scars on our hearts.
And as we each part from their faltering weariness,
We soon will find we can’t tell them apart.
A wound is a wound, no matter how deep,
Or how long, or how swollen, or recently rent
We all have our pain we so desperately keep
To ourselves in our sorrow until we lie spent.
To speak of your pains brings forth bitter agony,
Tragedy lies in refreshing the past.
But when we pour forth our own bittersweet melodies,
Just maybe the others will help our souls last.
The pain will always be there, it’s the truth,
But in our circle of hope,
It hurts less.


Our Garden Visits
Let’s go in the garden, you and I.
Feel the warm breeze dance
Through the trees on high.
Smell the flowers in bloom,
Hear the fountain’s call,
From spring into summer
From summer to fall.
You sit on my bench.
And just quietly watch
As the tadpoles dig trenches
In the murky pond’s mulch.
I’m fine in the silence,
All that I seek
Is that you remain here
In the garden with me.
Today you paid visit,
But something was wrong.
Your sobs interrupted
The morning birds’ songs.
I tried to console you,
I wanted to soothe,
But marble, though shapen,
Can seldomly move.
So I stayed in my pond,
And you stayed on the shore,


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