That He Created

Fantasy or madness -
what difference lies between...?
The air was cold - so full of fear,
that goose-bumps rose upon
the skin that ought to comfort him
in loving warmth.

Hatred - coldest spike of all -
the height of blind emotion,
emanated in the atmosphere -
so cold, no human measure e'er
could hope to warm it through.
And there he was.

As if embalmed within the calm that
seemed to emanate from deep within.
But oh, the mighty power of the storm,
rose up again to then surround him
once again within its might. And all
the light just seemed to disappear -
just there - where height and depth
began to dare imagine they were
one again.

And so, o'er time and space
and every distance that he chose
to put between - his world spun
beyond the modicum of human
reasoning. Reaching deep
and thrusting high, the treasure
of the dying sigh - was there,
within him now.

His courage had evaporated -
ideals of love confused his rationale.
Thus, his fear of everything
that claimed itself most feminine,
lived on within the death
that he created...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...