playing round the edges
of your mind -
indirect, invisible - it feels
so real it takes reality away;
as specters unimagined
come to play within
your every night and day
projected by those minds
that never came to know
Pain blossoms and it flares
within unsanctified diversity
that wars for an ascendance
of extremity itself;
knowing only mine and yours
but nothing in between.
One may cry and one may scream
while another always seems serene;
a stalwart look to face the others,
speaking in a voice of reason
through all the fires that burn unbidden,
acidly enduring inner realms.
Drifting higher, diving deep
to keep the rest in line;
never letting on the price they pay
for indiscretions that are played out,
there upon that stage of faces
breathing their disease into the air.
They cannot see and yet somehow
they know in an exactitude,
the role they choose to play;
when silently, at night
they attempt to put away
the greater dreams their spirits send
that they might make amends
for all they never tried to be.
But sleep is cheap
and revolution so expensive -
few are those who dare to take the chance
and chancing all they are, to reach -
allowing soul to teach them then
of all that they are meant to be;
when, flying free, at once
and inexplicably, the meaning
of all life begins to flow
through all they are.
For we are sons and we are
we are parents and then too, the seed
that reaches for tomorrow.
What shall we teach tomorrow to behold -
no more than just the debt we've left behind?
Or will we finally give ourselves
the chance to just move on
in waves of undulating fascination
as spirit rides the tides divine;
To find the source of magic
still lives on beyond the bonds,
the bubbles and the bounds,
that feed the chaos - family insanity -
just when we turn the key and dare
to walk right through that door
where more insanity becomes divinity
in an ever singing fantasy
of spirit coming home . . .
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...