There are words and deep emotions
that refuse to be amended
or to seek to be their opposite -
routed and defended -
against the best of any
positivity of attitude we gain.
And there are memories
that weep themselves to sleep,
just to waken once again so unexpectedly;
held somewhere deep within suspension -
reanimated by a scent, a sound, a sight.
Or just the taste of ice cream
on a steamy summer day;
in textured cold that melts itself
again in streams of creamy ecstasy,
as delightful memories of loving, happy days
retrieve themselves again and then,
come back to play again within our soul.
For the whole of us would
have us understand
so much more than intellect demands,
even of those realms invisible,
that seep and weep the mystery
of our one true destiny of utter being.
And there are words within
the deepest introspection,
demanding to be heard and written
within the tomes of living history
that now speak of days of yore
in words too bland to show the worth
of what is known as efficacious
to our deepest needs.
They bleed themselves through veins
unknowingly, as rain comes calling,
falling endlessly into our lives.
And we must strive,
as living, breathing destiny
for the completion of the meaning of it all;
where teardrops fall, composed of ,joy
and all that we employ abounds
within a love of life now found to be
in the up and down of everything that is . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .