Collectively

Hidden in the collectivity.
Negating what the inner eye can see.
Denying half of the antinomy.
Pressed into a corner by
a slip of tongue, without the lie
to ease the way into another
peaceful state of mind.

From past to future, presence must retain
a fluctuating spirit that remains untouched
amid the chaos found. The circle forms,
the spiral opens out. Flying round, the symbols
must be born. Height and depth in variation.
Hubris has forsworn the vision. Difficult,
the dual path that leads us past the present
into moments screaming to be known.

Balancing, the tightrope walker dares to see it all.
Inside the mind, the light begins to fall.
Rising up to heights divine, then swinging
through the mean. Dismounting, all the visions
still remain. Seeking yet another understanding.
Modern, all the ancient ways appear again in time.
A different slant of sunlight, and the water turns to wine.

Hidden in the collectivity.
Blinded eyes that never will be free.
Denying all that lies in wait
upon the other side. Denied,
its strength can overpower
rational and manmade hours.
Reaching out into the mystery.

Where the inner and the outer start to blend.
Enemies becoming best of friends.
The light reflects another way
to end the shadow's travesty.
Arching o'er their heads, the rainbow bends.
Conversation baring sprites
that dance and play in pure delight.

The tale of it all without an ending.
To seek and find another new beginning.
Here, amid the old and static,
crumbling states of merely human impact.
Flying into heights that touch the depths.
Loving every monster it begets.

Lost in a world of impractical power.
Focusing seconds that only led to minute, hours.
Rational - the keyword for their lives.
The years go by and all the little lies
came back to haunt them in their dreams.
Understanding spent on the controls
of some machine.

Tunnel vision, selfishly employed.
Searching for a moment of pure joy.
Settling for yet another feel of busyness.
Creative aspects, once denied,
meet them at the fireside.
Flames that glow before the ash is formed.
Momentary visits of a vaguer prophecy.

Easier, that great unknowingness.
Claimed innocence when they possess
the cause and the effect. Invisible
within the ill infecting everyone.
Collective fear that overcomes them all.
Unconscious bursts of light defying
secret thoughts of death and dying.

Socially accepted, the neurosis.
Chemically addicted, the psychosis
that claims a kind of freedom
that was never meant to be.
Lost in need, invisibly, they reach
for something more - to find themselves
surrounded by closed doors.

A key appears, they hide it in a pocket.
The dreams of freedom screwed into
a socket. Military bearing found
in stiffened backs and their arthritic knees.
Age turned into the destiny denied.
Fly away, oh wrinkled face.
Numb your nerves, deceive your mind.
Pain-killers are an awesome kind of high.

Mood elevators, and they cease to care.
What witness dares defy that heady
scientific attitude, that must preclude
the reason for the feelings that they feel.
Intellectual composure of a mind that
cannot find a way to heal the greatest ills.
Experts in a field that no longer holds
its very nature in esteem.

Lost in a world of impractical power.
Focusing seconds and minutes to hours.
Rational - the keyword for their lives.
The years go by and all the little lies
come back to haunt them in their dreams.
Understanding spent on the controls
of all the complications of some great machine.

Seductive sleep, the dreams reach in.
Apostrophes to what they deem as real.
Caught up in the socially accepted climb
into their intellects. Hiding in a tower
that is minimal at best. Words flowing
through with truth that leaves
their reason far behind.

Speeding down the mapped out streets,
a fleeting feel of magic in the air.
Forced to wait, degrees of fascination
turn to visions floating in the wind.
Hindsight used to kill infatuation.
It never was a matter of man's sins.
Rather, the exposure to a knew experience.
Opening into the innocence...

? Michaelette ?

5/12/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .