Anger building into rage,
that he had left to keep him warm.
The nights and dreams brought
icy chills that came to meet in him.
Where once his intellect had held
him, so secure - the web was growing
greater than his intellect alone could
ever hope to even hold.
There were ghosts and there
shadows yet, beyond his reckoning.
And here, the simple logic that he'd
used to fight it all, simply faded into
one great mist of longing. How could
it be this mist was cognizant at all...?
It blurred the many angles of the walls
of his overt defense. Subtly, it seeped
into the depth of this - his mind's
forsworn and greatest enemy and need
of the ability and clarity that leads
to utter power and control.
Yet every bond he'd made had
And still, he could not come to understand
the source of this great feeling of an alienation.
More (and yet much less) than that ideal
of humanity they sought so hard to just
express through him. It was then the spring
inside of him just started to unwind. And all
the world he used to know as real, began
unraveling, beyond his will or want or
Stasis came and melted all
into a field of wildflowers. Much more
real than any dream could be. He floated
there within the mystery; opening and
closing by the feel of warmth and light,
as sunlight played a sleepy melody.
Puffy clouds of white and gray would
enter and just float away. It was as
if he, too, were just like them. Floating
through his life upon a stream called
But more and more, a bleakness
in - an overwhelming feeling of a dream
of might have been. He steeled himself
against the rush of pain that always came
along with this - the clouds amassing for
attack again. It seemed like it would
never end, this time of gathering. He
sought inside yet one more time, and willed
himself to still contain it all. Demons playing
one more game, the prize would be his soul.
The strength he sought was so much more
and less than physical had ever been.
Heart beating frantically,
as this one beat
became eternity for him. His presence
of mind was slipping away. Held beyond
his will or want in a paralysis that moved
his now unmoving form into realms he never
wished to know at all. The wind became
a frightful howling; a never-ending scream
of suffering, even as without became the gist
of all that lay within. Cancerous, the molecules
were gathering in him, for genetic codes were
being rearranged by cold, unfeeling scientific
minds. Playfully, they cut into his mind.
Chemicals of never-meant-to-be,
the air that must be breathed to stay alive. Yet
still, some greater part of him responded to remind
him of the higher and more basic goal he sought.
Deliverance from pain. Not just for one alone.
But rather for the whole of all humanity.
(Forever, must the change begin in one alone
who comes to feel the truth.) The ancient
and the newborn came to meet within
the deep of one alone again at last.
What would he choose to do with all
the wisdom come in blessing, into him...?
When anger building into rage,
that he had left to keep him warm. And
this was just what his society condemned.
What was really left, to hold him
and to keep him warm
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...