When sleep will not capture with gentleness this wounded heart
and swirling night seems it shall never slow rampaging blood
that grips sanity with icy gloves; I will create peace in sleep;
which drains the paralysis of being – forbidding freedom.
This sleep soothes; cradling as a mother’s song softly holds the newly born.
When slow numbing sadness feathers this stillborn heart
and cloudy tunnels where light rejects vision
seem lidded for eternity; I will create hope.
Hope of love neither foolish nor unreal
catching, returning this soul’s seeping strength.
When faithful solitude no longer eases this soul-eating heart
and dreams flit about in some erotic danse-macabre
where I would rather feel her cold hand crushing this heart;
there I will build the towers of time contented
and happily await the one that may never arrive.
When love stores no destiny in this well-used heart
and tomorrow lives as a simple reflection of yesterday
yesterdays reeking of entropy…unbearable structure’
I will break the circles of self-imposed martyrdom
to loose this heart’s phoenix on the world.
When this heart is forgotten dreams and sleeping love
within the myopic miasma of my maddened mind;
I will survive, struggle in the blistering bind
Of yes and no, forever and never, why and because
while my heart pleasantly plays my emotions of what will be, what was.
MaxS 1991
