Do you know any other dark elves?

An old man wakes up in the middle of the night,
gasping for air. The old man could swear
that the bedroom walls have closed in tight
around a life lived full of action.
(still he fears something isn’t right.)

In his next life he bucks the system good.
A female actress in drag on the stage.
An edgy voice for the common man,
but still a fool full of sound and rage.
No matter what part she tries to fill,
There’s still this emptiness inside.

Still, if she only knew all she’d really lost,
how many times that soul had died,

she’d remember a time
when the earth was young
and a baby boy was she
and the veil was so thin
that the spirit within him
played with spirits who were truly free.

Perhaps then she’d see the uselessness
and grasp the sheer futility
of trying to get herself right with a world
of such poor consistency
but the veil draws down so thickly now
around those who’ve seen such days

who’ve seen one too many perfect moments
pass like clouds across the stage.

Such memories they may come and go
from the grave mounds found bound deep below
but the things once attached to this ancient snow
can be as hard to know as ourselves.

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