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Flight
My mind is often flying. And when it returns, it brings me these remarkable strings of words.
Two Hundred Sixty Pins
Voltaire is one of my favorite historical figures. His relationships, especially with King Frederick the Great of Prussia, intrigues me very much. Yet Voltaire's almost always depicted as the bad guy in their relationship, and from all the stuff I've read about him, I was able to see their affair from a strange point of view.

Here's my take on their 'romance', and Voltaire's side of it.

____________________________________________________________________

Goodbye my dear, my gallant love, my mirror of the sun.
I say goodbye to your sweet smile which says the pain is gone.
I bid adieu to your bright eyes so blue I go undone.
I now let go of you, my love. I now let go and run.

Sweet were the days we spent together, bitter were our fights;
Merry and vibrant were our mornings, amorous our nights.
I won't forget the clouds we watched together in the heights
And of the eves we sat in silence without prying lights.

'Twas like a dream how easily we fell for each other,
And how we fought against all odds just to be together;
Noticing our diff'rences, we did not even bother,
So much so I closed my eyes when you were with another.

I was ready to give myself entirely, whole, to you,
And I was so awfully convinced that our love was true.
Though of all the bad things about you I did have a clue,
I still managed, despite myself, to be loyal to you.

I can't believe despite my age, I was still made a fool.
I can't believe despite my love, I was still made a tool.
For yes, you were untouchable upon that silken stool,
And that did make me unworthy of your love as a whole.

When I attempted to leave, though, you did all to stop me.
You used everything in your power short of cruelty.
I wish you realized you just had to say you love me
and I shall waltz back into your arms, laughing merrily.

Yet you did not, and here we are, my little handsome prince,
Here we are with our hearts pierced by two hundred sixty pins.
A pin for every year that passed ever since we parted.
A pin for every year that I remained brokenhearted.


Ysrafel
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