There is always one more task
to do Ė we save
them up, you see. When all is said and done,
we wash the walls, thinking to begin again with
yet another color of a dawn that might just mean
enlightenment. Yet muscles, so long weakening
within that deeper sleep of our unknowing, refuse
to move themselves again somehow; no matter
how our mind commands, demands and wills it
to be so. For all we were, we gave away, and all
that we composed within an instant of intensity,
we always placed outside ourselves, and we have
bled the very strength of us away.
Sluggishly, we move once more,
into another door
of blind departure, sorrow speaking desperately
of all we left behind. For we are blinded, donít
you see them now...? Mirrors endlessly repeating
plays of shadowed imagery; anciently, it dances
through these days of make-believe we live. While
we are forced to sit within the utter stillness that
every life denied its deepest longing must become.
No matter that another image
rises distantly from
ancient past; redeemingly, its gleam has now been
altered and abused; words flowing into phrases
that can never be complete, yet one sentence will
repeat itself, as it flames time and again within a
burst of great desire through us all: "My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?" It screams in
potency yet still, while we search for fame and
glory, even as this endless story plays our lives
upon its stage of never meant to be Ė that fantasy
of tortured misery, turning death of flesh into the
one and only savior we may ever know at all.
See it fall; that burning
cross so quickly turns
to ash as sunlight floods the ancient scenery
into the meaning of all life that must be lived
into eternity; where high and low just need
to meet and come to know themselves
complete within the truth of all thatís
written in between...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...