A Need for So Much More

The good and the bad.
Pure beauty throwing out its ugliness.
The cruelty that hides in tenderness.
For we are only human after all.
There never was a Satan that could
take the fall for us. Nor any god that
might explain it all to us within eternity.

To walk the line, so razor sharp.
To fall, and falling, fall apart again.
Worn to shreds as time was gained.
Trying so hard not to share the pain.
Failing, too completely, at the end.
There is more loss than any living gain.
The willow weeps of age that cannot bend.

As we wonder where creation has its start.
Moving blindly, feeling in the dark.
Grasping at the thoughts that form
but never quite require reality.
As flesh imposes yet another boundary.
Aching need that's never sated.
Grating grief e'er unabated.

Wishing for a moment's happiness.
Feeling as it slips out of our grasp.
Seeking yet another scent of vagrant homeliness.
Avoiding all the homilies - sacrificed,
like families on the run from heritage.
Falling into yet another binge of loneliness.
Accepting that Christ died and ne'er returned.

Orphaned at a sterling age.
Feeling all the rage of the repeat.
Change was never such a simple feat.
Simple tears are easily displayed.
The complex intervention long engraved
as something seeking somewhere else.
Hell and heaven come to be no more than
just another stage of masks.

Grasping for the meaning of each task.
Falling into emptiness at last.
Alas, such feelings always come to pass
away again. Like mice, too blind to ever
see their tails flying in the wind. Yet still,
each slice of life demands a telling.
Mother, matrix, force of every word.
The mixture complex, patterns that
have blurred.

Denying inner wisdom - heard so often
in each movement of the air. It breathes
itself from earth into each form of her creation.
Muted by the mechanistic towers of man's
mathematical equations. Traces of their
innocence embalmed. Graveyards
overflowing with the echoes of lost songs.
Forever left unsung.

Hearts grown weak from trying while
their alter-egos rose into control.
Freudian, the raptures of the cold
and calculating. Segments of a soul.
Safety sought in uncreated courage.
Mind sucked into mixed electric lines.
Computer-wise has always been unkind.
Hearts sinking even as light bulbs
are flourished in the lies, imaginary,
in an ever conscious waking of the world.

The good and the bad.
The given. The had.
Pure beauty throwing out its ugliness.
A cruelty that hides in tenderness.
For we are only human after all.
And thus we ever fall beneath the call.
Of aching hearts that still repeat
a need for so much more...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .