There are so many things
you never chose to see in me;
even now within this paradox
of all your many moods.

On one side of your mindset,
you want me now, just as I am,
but there, within the shadows,
lurks the clone that you have
tried to lure again into you web –
that other, only feminine , yet
somehow less and so much more
than this, this sense of what
I’ve come to be in all reality.

You’re so confused; for no matter
all your words composed of
loving interludes, the truth
of your emotion rises, ever there
to sound in verity, all the rest
that you so still heatedly deny.

Eyes wide open now, light
no longer blurred within
the dimness of those days
of tragedy now gone, you seek,
but cannot seem to find
the one and only path
that leads back home.

You struggle
with the purest memories
of love, but only in a passing
tense of logic and of history;
still trying to remember when
your family survived and somehow
made your world complete.

Father figure, where art thou...?
for the memory of all you were
escapes me so consistently somehow;
now that I’m grown, without your care,
and made to make or break this world
that you have left to me, unaided –
for your memory has become too faded
for even just one answer to my pleas.

And so I search,
I dare to compromise
even these - the details
of the greatest of ideals
that mankind ever offered to appease
this lack that you alone have grown,
there within those shadows lying
deep inside of me – for you are seed
and I no more than your imagining.

But, Father, don’t you see...?
every loving memory I’ve held
so sacrosanct within these realms
invisible to mortal eyes now dies,
and drifts away, so utterly and
so complete, that now it seems
you never were alive in love at all.

While those memories of yours
just somehow fade into the distance -
escaping all the sorrow and the pain
you left behind – you, the only
precious point of masculinity
that I have might now conceive.

Do not fear, oh soul of light,
for memory must speak its love,
even past this pain that seems
to alter everything, turning
best to worst and back again,
all within a momentary moment -
when all our senses touch
and come at last to know each other,
here within this light of loving memory.

Remember, love exists, unaltered,
and drift again into and past the past;
where the essence of your
vast departure does no more than
haunt me, even now.

Yet even now, if only you would ask,
I’d fall into your loving arms again,
more innocent than even you
would dare imagine could exist;
for mind and intellect were never
truly at the core of all that matters –
they have their place, and yet
that place is numinous, at best.

Real, yet ill-conceived - abiding there,
in realms too many call invisible –
even now that they have come to touch
this numen lying deepest of them all.
Invading every particle of flesh and form,
only awaiting one pure moment
when the wholeness of itself
might come to be.

Oh, lover mine, cannot you see, e’en now?
the cost of all the loss conceived
within this moment chosen
as no more than just a tendency.
Must your movement always
be no more than just habitual...?

Or might you once - just once
and only once – decide with all you are
to persevere within the heart
of all commitment, and finally turn
this love of ours into reality again?

I have hungered for your strength
(through eons of suppression)
to meld into the strength of all I am –
and for one passing moment,
so it was; yet now, my love,
you decide yet one more time
(even here, within this timelessness
of which we are composed)
again to turn this love of all reality
back into no more than just a memory.

And so I fade away and yet beyond
all that you now choose to be,
the baseness that the mass
still calls reality -
for never will I veer from this –
this love I have and hold
within my heart into infinity...

? Michaelette ?