The mystery would never
find an end.
It lived itself too truly in beginnings.
Leaving what was in between
to suffer all its greatest needs
in swells that never seemed
to find the worth in anything.
Deny the end, begin again.
It didn't always work that way.
For the essence lived within a feel
of love. They could not claim
unknowing anymore. As they glanced
at the light, slurring burgeoning questions -
aglitter with hope, the dark shadows
Believing love was only
meant to be
a luxury they never could afford.
Weak and spent, the storm
absorbed itself into itself again.
A lightning blast that only came
to know itself within a great explosion.
Yet still, the mystery existed.
Evading all the consciousness
they thought they held in thrall...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .