The Archetype

I am the tide that drags to death
I am the willow weeping
I am the land that time forgot
I am the dream without sleeping

I am the magic storm of the skies
I am the silver-tongued lark
I am the tear on the wing of the dove
I am the cry in the dark

I am the path ever twisting
I am the labyrinth door
I am the hunter's arrow
I am the heart of the boar

I am the fruit and I am the wyrm
I am the right and the wrong
I am and am not, the beginning, the end
I am the silence and song.



The seed for this poem was planted in 2003 when I was at RADA in London, for the professional program "Acting Shakespeare."  One of our brilliant tutors, Peter Oyston, had us working with archetypes... a strange and mystical experience. "I am the tide that drags to death," the first line of this poem, was one of the archetypes he gave us, and one that I used for "Hamlet." Szélső Fa's post reminded me of that experience, and all of a sudden the poem welled out.

Tags: Anniina's Poetry