THE PHILOSOPHER QUEEN

Play a chord on your guitar for me 
sing a sorrowed song
oh jester laugh and cry for me

I follow the twinkling notes of the harpsichord
through the mountains and valleys of space
in the forbidden reaches of the galaxy
the spirit of Bach wanders alone
rising and falling
through the arpeggios of stars

In my palace of crystal and ice I stand alone

I am the Empress
I am the Philosopher Queen of all of Scandinavia.
 
The white marble castle
lodged in the black obsidian cliffs 
towering over the dark waters of the fjords 
narrow and deep
The Empress stands
on the colonnaded balcony
and watches as the golden sailing ship 
of a foreign king
drifts away in the fading light
her impassioned heart reaches after him 
until the mist conceals
the billowing sails

Queen Christina still wanders alone
in her chilly northern palaces of stone 
and yet laments the death of Descartes
for which she stands accused
Murderess! she cries
and tears at her hair and eyes
and drops of her ruby blood adorn 
her gown of white and flowing satin.
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