They swoon, they swarm,
they're falling down
into a trap that's been preset,
in mediocrity that catches dreams,
manipulating them to bits and pieces.
Rounded silver turning gold
that falls into his pocket unredeemed.
He glitters, nearly cast
within an icy golden glare;
deceit held in a color
that warms their sighs like summer skies
and holds their eyes for just
a moment longer than he should,
gleaning in that glance
the very part he needs to play
to be believed.
Mesmerizing in enticement,
he weaves a web of his hypocrisy
in words that never quite conceive
exactly what he means;
knowing that the weave will hold
until he reels them in,
yet always leaving truth untold
within just one more "but..."
He holds them in a pause
of pure confusion;
wanting, needing what he seems
to promise as he reads their dreams
"but" - oh yes, the but arrives again
just after they have signed in blood
upon his dotted line.
Entrepreneur of a newness
lending glory within increments
of seeded, greedy waves of agony
even as he takes their hand
and shakes it as of old
when deals were sworn
of flesh and blood and soul
and just a simple touch that told
the story of an honor left behind.
But they are blinded by his
artificially induced, but who
will ever see it so?
When all they know has grown
within an open state of honesty,
born of moon and stars that show
the purest glow of all,
just when the shadow shows
begin to play at end of day.
While there within a glaring
of day now lighted by fluorescence,
he glows before he takes to flight,
with all the best that they can give,
unearned and yet somehow forgiven
within the greater system,
that adores no more than glitter
and never seeks the other side at all . . .
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .