Of Their Unknowing

An auric field surrounds them,
and they find the letting go to be
too deep within the realm
of their unknowing.

Modern texts might call it
morphogenetic. Long word
that hinges minds upon a track
confused with all that isn't there.

And yet, to them, their bubble
really matters - once upon a time,
their dreams began to build it true.
They can't believe they squandered
so much youth.

Nor would they dare confess
their age, without a confrontation.
Compression of emotions lay
in puddles on their floors.

Seeming not to matter anymore.
Except that now and then, they
tend to take a form again.
The endless wars beginning yet again.

He'd left her once, then twice...
The numbers never really mattered.
What mattered was the coming back again.
A failure that he never could explain.

Vain, the proposition - that they lived
beyond the pain. The iron ore
of their regrets was melting in the furnace
of experience they couldn't quite forget.

Images, so real, would spring up in
their weary minds. Of times when joy
uplifted everything. Fading back
into the light of day.

Watching clocks that never learned
to play the role of soul's infinity.
They ticked away the moments of their lives.
Within a silence too precise to ever be humane.

Long and long ago, they rode a high
of promises to be made real. The feelings
of their celebrations passed so quickly
to the underworld.

'Twas then the other feelings, stowed away,
became a tide that once had signified
the break of day. But not so now.
Somehow they came to whither too.

Just like the early morning dew
as sun ascends to make amends
for all the darkness living
in those dreams once held as true...

? Michaelette ?

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