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.