Another Combination

Another combination of the same old tried and true.
Another round of blue that never ends.
To never truly mourn a loss can turn
into eternal repetition of the same old pain
we knew in days of yore.

They linger in the days before disaster seemed
to cast a shadow - there, upon their souls.
Compare it to a spider's web that clings
as it is bringing slow, sweet death.

Watch the light, fantastically arrayed.
Glimmering and shimmering and dancing
still upon each strand of sticky gossamer.
And there, that housefly bears a simple smile
in the face of final, deep deterioration.

Rictus then, a skeleton -
that fixed and gaping grin.
Released from that great fear
of mere survival. Abiding in
the shadows of each faerytale they tell.

Death-like offering of life's acceptance.
Dig a grave and dangle there,
instead of living love. Yet now and then,
we find the time and space and place
to linger up on high.

Miasma of an alter-alibi.
Spirit reaching for a home
that we just can't quite see.
A feeling there - so unbelievable
A rising up while reaching
down into our history.

Our lives repeat themselves,
so endlessly. Breaking free,
we dare a different theme.
And herein lies the scheme
of inspiration.

Another combination of the same old tried and true.
Another round of blue that spends it all - to the extreme.
To truly mourn a loss can set us free -
to be ourselves, for now and then,
into eternity....

? Michaelette ?

10/23/2002
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