Into the Labyrinth.

There is a faint must in the air,
The beginning of an absence of sunlight.
I am not quite sure how I got here.

Yesterday I stood free on a hill.
I know that,
I remember that.
My heart rejoiced in the sound of birds,
in the touch of the wind,
in the scent of damp earth.

My heart leapt at the sight of my child,
at the touch of his hand,
at the joy of his smile.

If I struggle, struggle, to remember I recall
Your touch coming upon me.
Smooth and warm and smelling of musk and damask roses,
Of hair and skin and smooth sheets
Scented with your body.

I heard a music, half-remembered.
It called me away and while I
Struggled to know where it
Was calling me to
You took my hand,
You stroked my arm,
You called my name
Until the music and the sound and the touch became one.

This was yesterday, or perhaps,
It was many yesterdays.
I have heard that time passes differently
In the land of Faerie
And travellers may pass safely
Provided no food passes their mortal lips.

In the growing darkness
I recall the taste of your mouth,
the honey of your hair,
the salt of your skin,
the sweetness of your body.
And my terrible hunger.

Now I see the sun only as shadow,    
Your shadow,
Caught fleetingly round one of many corners.
The music has gone.
And touch leaves only
This grey dust on my fingertips.

It is said that love makes us immortal
In the Labyrinth of Immortality
There are many turns
And at each one we must choose.
Strange, how I turn always
Towards the sun,
Yet find my hand falling
Only on cold stone.