When I was torn away
I held my sheltered self
Until this blood refused to circulate
Beyond each bend in my arms.
I was left struggling
Though each tick
Felt good against my skin
And the blood
Spoiled my heartbeat
As Sun caressed thy pulse.
Each saddened part of me that looses you
Slowly falls to the ground;
Anarchy amongst my body parts,
One for one is what it’s called.
There are no cryptic memories,
Just scribbled pages of a book
Bent at the corners and stained oily grey
That clearly show a worn use
Only my friendly pair of shoes could wear.
The manner at which each part falls
Leaves no question in my heart
Rummaging my old box stored away
I’ve left to dust beyond.
Wind is howling through this house
Like inescapable tombs of our past
Flesh biting flesh
Wrapped with fabric so dusty it crumbles.
Yet in open webs I can still see through
Nostalgia hits an ancient bone
That even her subtle breath of wind
Finds it hard to escape duty of.
Slowly eyelids close as raspy sun strokes,
A dying ember reminds us each
That our throat of life
Calms the day’s very nature.
I no longer remember how it used to feel
Which I cannot decide about,
Whether it is a good thing or bad..
For I can only hope for desire
That becometh to mine name
So vibrant as I used to think it once was.
Nay, it was so! My mind does not deceive,
Nor has it lain dormant these so many years
For I have in the deepest of my heart
Secrets you taught me how to live.
Though placebo may sure to have been at risk
It was learned and practiced
Dare I say enhanced?
Through thy thick precision
That has held with me so many a year.
So I shall not then look back
As though it has faded to negligence.
Though sands held at repeated onslaught,
They remain through it all
Sand as it shall be left to sit
Awash in the sun.
It was not my claim,
Not could it ever have been
To be lost with controlled madness
On a motorcycle
Going fifty kilometers per hour.
The roads were too dusty,
Too quiet for forgiveness
To be called out
In a manner that did not support
Each dying ember of humanity.
And the glasses were of the new world,
A signal for misunderstanding
– Modern mythological errors
Combed with a brush of the future.
I merely sat there,
I did not dust off the seat
I did not wear deceiving clothes
I did not paint my hair black
Or red or green or blue,
And my wings ever grew
Until I no longer sat alone
Accompanied by history untold
That whispered flickers
Of a language with no words
To my clouded eyes
Did you listen when I spoke no words?
I could hardly lean to take flight
Soar away, hide away
Aloof my trail ablaze.
I woke up from a foggy bliss
Tended to my flock,
Stepped into a day of glass
Dew upon my shoe.
When I carried over my heart,
Sealed with each singing bird’s note,
T’was then I had no words to share
No sound to match such pure delight.
I want to lay away your story
Into my eloquent pages so designed.
For I am in no time missing
Each sentence you’ve so led amiss,
No grammatical trickery
To bequeath this budding rose
– Thorny and apical –
In transcendence I have only dreamed.
There, so I shall then pass
And accompany you upon this waltz
Through tapestry written
Upon each lazy leaflet
Dangling it’s feelings
Upon these even walking grounds
Handwritten for our love.
Can one day your abundance touch me?
Truth like lightening bolts
Thrown from Zeus himself.
And my eyes shall see openings
From whence your sail shall catch wind,
Pulling me towards ancient speed
Roaring in fierce aftermath
Abundantly striking me free.
I shall not turn my eye,
Though wrath of the God shall torture me
For it is in his kingdom
You shall dare set me free.
And in my deepest of layers
– Of which only then permit me sight,
It has always been mine blindness –
Call on me to share.
Read me like I am all here,
Nor leave me without all signs.
There I sit in mine throne
Stretched in abundance and call,
Laid bare as shown Virgil
And my heart reigned for thy lightening bolt
Sight into thine eyes.