Based on events in Jeanne Cavelos' brilliant technomage trilogy and told from Galen's point of view (Honestly, who here thinks that his acts at the Well of Forever gave him any sense of closure? Not me, certainly) (although Galen/Dureena ship is kinda fun).

Anyhoo, Galen is thinking about Isabelle. As usual. This is my first time trying to write a sestina; they don't have to be in iambic pentameter, do they? Hope not.

This is a lot more repetitive and less flowing than I wanted, but it's out of my system now. I'll fix it later. Here goes nothing...

Love Not Spoken

A nightmare, truly, isn't quite the name

I give this dream, though it may make me fear.

It haunts me in routine, if not each night,

But oft enough to make me wince and shudder

At its approach. I fear it will not leave

And let me close my eyes and sleep in peace.

In death, you say, you soon will be at peace,

Weak and near death, I see you shudder,

But with effort, I hear you say my name.

I hold you close; your side I will not leave.

In your eyes: no pain of the approaching night.

Aye, e'en in death, you never stoop to fear.

I could have stopped it, ending doubt and fear

Of life without you, never-ending night.

What death, in rest, could give you, I in peace

Would then have moved the world, all in your name,

But I chose not to act. It makes me shudder

To know I loved you, and I let you leave.

Whether short or long, the dream won't easily leave

Till discipline and patience give me peace.

I go about my life, but still do fear,

A fear, my love, which does not have a name.

I leave behind the agony of night

And cast it out of mind with a shudder.

This acid taste failure makes me shudder;

I wish that I could say you are at peace,

That holy, hallowed, blessed is thy name,

But these sweet words are nothing, and they leave

You, dead for "God's great plan," and, too, I fear

Leave me, bereft, to dream alone at night.

I dream and wake and wonder to the night

What e'er I did to earn the love and peace

I found in your embrace. And then I fear

That any form of love that I could leave

Would not suffice. O love, it makes me shudder,

The thought of even mentioning your name.

Know this: 'tis not the dream alone I fear;

It is the waking, crying out your name,

That plunges me, in day, to endless night.