Against the backdrop he did not know
where he stood - the uncertainty was deafening
will she love him or be a figment of his imagination?
he already had a wonderful thing going but could one
love 2 people at the same time? was there a way to cheat
death live in debauchery and hedonism as he did so many
years ago? get with reality is what she said - you think you
have the gall to wish for unanswerable tendencies?
all you will get is a fantasy - an unrequited call
a worrisome thought and a selfish glutton off the map
and two altogether separate people in the dance
of night - but isn't fantasy more rich and wondrous than reality?
only a god so transfixed in the affairs of others
will call upon the devil to do his work and live his life
being that he only saw her for such a limited time
the days were spent languishing in utter decadence
so beautiful was the inkling - the softness astounded him
together they flew through the air so free and real
up to the stratosphere like an endless glider slowly
easing its way from cloud to cloud - a balance so delicate
and loving it could only be the last resort of the angels
can air be so lovely and caring - did he realize the sanctity
of those first glances? No he did not - just go to your books
and sink your head into the floor - open your mouth so that
the inchworm will catapult itself into the basket of treachery
to be real is the goal not the purpose - look and he will find the great
answers to the questions of dancehall crutches
enter the labyrinth and rise to the endless touch
so full of passion and grace - she will ignore the solution
and ignore the side glances of freedom - all he wished to do was to
hold her in his arms - that would end the scarce treble so hooked
as he was on the end product - But No! it is all in the process
not the result - he wished to be transported into the grave
of unknown saints - to make his plea to the court of wonder and
tragedy - Rise up! Rise up! there is glory in the nights ahead
the nights filled with honey and apples only to spill out into the day
as a corpse in the sun - up to a certain point he could make the
argument that once the dramatic ears of tragedy heard the call
of ten thousand hummingbirds then the wisdom of transcendence
ekes through the pipeline of internal catapults - a life less lived
than thought of - he heard the train coming and was frightened
of the sound of rattling metal - a porous mental picture
soon to be realized as false and futile and rotting
in the end he could just see the outline of her face
the tragic failure of his thoughts and actions seeding the
new penchant for liberty and just causes - will the
monsters be at bay or will they jump start the end of the world?
he will never know just as she will never tell him her secrets
