Losing faith in the state
of the world at large,
where so many of the rules exemplify mere moods
of ages past where future really plays no part;
and the future seems surmised
only from the stem of used to be -
mere alibis that canít conceive
the utter creativity of other realms of being.
The work-a-day world leaves
in its wake
a score of imposing limitations;
birthing and destroying rounds
of ultimately intricate imagination.
And this somehow is named success,
as if the aberrations of the past
would simply fade away.
But oh, my dear, the past
its way too deeply into tones,
composing lives now moving
into all that is unknown.
While the weaknesses of these foundations
are ultimately laid aside, if not forgotten,
replaced by strength of our belief in love.
Yet denial abides in you, so liberally strewn
within so much that you refuse to know;
and in you, this unknowingness
seems to be no more
than just another weak excuse.
The moods of your emotion
speak in volumes of the contradiction
that intellect alone insists become abiding form;
and your control is really non-existent
within the greater realms of life reborn.
And here you seek to pattern every norm,
until you sink right past the brink
into those feelings calling out in desperation
for the meaning of all life
that lies beyond/below/beneath/within
these particles of flesh where faith abides
and feels it way into reality . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...