Upon the Truth

He said, "I'll prove it!"
and he fell inside his mind,
searching for a key
that would unlock the mystery.

Labyrinthine paths were traveled;
time went on, but nothing mattered.
Still he sought the source
of his mysterious misery.

Reaching for the heights,
he never noticed that the floor
gave out; opening into the fathomed
depths of all he never knew
about himself before.

And there, he fell, into the deep
of every secret that he chose to keep.
He reached again, and tried to find
a formula for peace of mind. Alas,
he only found a void of seeming
emptiness.

Another stress, another strain,
reaching further than his heart
could take. 'Twas then the
shattering and shaking brought
him wide awake. Was it too late...?

Too late to love, to hope, to dream.
Too late to prove his words of love
were true. Early on, he had
an expectation. A deeper dream
that kept him moving on. Now,
the storm-tossed clouds were
weeping, anciently for him.

It seemed to all ascend as he
dropped down. Far and near,
it was as if the distance were
advancing. Imagined and yet
oh so very real. To touch, but
not to feel. To hide so deep
inside that all the world just
passed him by.

The alibis no longer eased
his mind into a greater dream.
Instead they pushed him further
back in time. Yet all the rhyme
that once was there, had altered
through the years. And nothing
matched just right - not anymore.

Long and long, he lingered there.
Dim memories of what he sought
were all that he had left. The cycle
had been set by him alone. Where
was it that the step he chose had
turned the other way...? He wandered
and he prayed to any deity that ever
was created. And yet the answers
slid away, upon a dated wind.

Mere survival wasn't really life at all.
Or so it seemed. Where had she gone,
the woman of his dreams...?
He used to sense her movement on
the ever flowing wind. But lately,
there had been no wind at all. The heat
of warring words was burning riotous
in him. Everything he touched became
another backlash of the growing flame
inside of him.

He slept, he dreamed, he couldn't tell
just when the waking came. Sliding
in and out of states of mind. Time
became a loop, a noose, that tightened
slowly round his neck. His body suffered
from neglect. He didn't care at all.
What good a life that never shared
the love...?

Penetrating all the veils, illusions
peeled away. He looked into a mirror
and saw her eyes just where he
thought his face should be. The
magic and the mystery were real.
Closer, closer - growing up and out,
his mind began to chime insufferably.
For reaching out, his hand would find
the same old mirror he'd left behind.

And there he stood, alone.
As once again, he looked
upon the truth - the only proof
lay in the feel of life and love
and now. Reality depended on
a balanced blend of life's experience.

Without love, he would not ever
feel alive again...

? Michaelette ?

4/17/2002
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...