I am back…
The conundrum lasts…
There is no answer.
Broken bones into casts.
Broken hearts scatter into dust.
The wind has no mercy.
It does what it must –
And I keep hearing it…
The worst is the limited joy,
It shines delightful and true
Then it succumbs, it breaks,
Fool me, nothing’s new.
Broken joy scatters as it will.
What can I wilfully save?
The wind is blowing cold,
Time never forgave.
What should I offer?
How do I find what I seek?
When can I hope?
Why is joy so delicate, so weak?
Knowledge of me shatters inward.
Am I but a mind not heart?
Was this sundering
A reason enough to start?
The moon dies again.
She cannot help tonight.
The wind is so damn strong,
There’s no will left to fight.
I hear the echoing voice,
To it my hope I forsake,
I am back,
Whispers an old heartbreak.
If I’m calm it’s not because I am so
(Do deeper waters not remain more still?)
Sharp thoughts seem to demand of me to know
When will I ever seem to have my fill –
Inward I rage with the strength of thought
And outward I smile and gloze polite –
At what bitter cost is that smile bought,
You may never hope to even guess right.
I rage with the force of a hurricane,
Against the interiors of my skull,
Like the iceberg that tore, in disdain,
An unsinkable ship’s mighty hull.
I smile, and smile and I smile and I smile
And thoughts converge in swirling tornadoes;
And my heart, all this anxious while,
Begins its illegitimate throes.
And quickly it picks up the rantings
That the skull had to shed downward,
For the mind hurled superfluous pantings,
Which now the heart has loyally incurred.
My lips yet smile and I appear calm;
And I smile I smile and do it again
Speaking of nary a single life harm,
Initiating mind screams or heart pain.
If there comes a time when I feel no more,
Put fire to my flesh in haste.
There will not be any reason in store
To appear modest or chaste.
The songs would have been defunct by then,
Romances would be long dead;
Indubitably count inward till ten,
Think of your new life instead.
You won’t even think twice of me once done,
No turning back at the gate!
You have had your fill, my share of the fun:
Of my smiles, my time, my fate.
The fire won’t need you, once it has been lit,
Who’ll need you later who’d know.
When the bones grow chalky cold in a bit,
Come back to end the last show.
Take the ashes and cast them to the sea,
Just end to futurity.
Finite end, make sure there be:
To the fire, to us and me.