The Real of Her

An eternity of love, so seldom spoken.
Slinking through the habits of devotion.
Needing more, yet choosing less again.
Deep within the night, his spirit bled out
on the carpets he once blessed.

A high-priced frame that housed
his misery. While deep within his heart,
an ancient melody kept playing on and on.
He never understood the pain
he'd spun into their beings.

Feminine, the adjective he loved -
and hated too. Eros come to challenge
all the Logos he believed alone was real.
Mind over matter. Intellect opposed
to his own heart. Suffering, he found
he wasn't able just to make another start
within the realms of everything he used to be.

Ah, he remembered flying free, in unison.
The icy days that spun the heat into
so many nights of sky's etheric blue.
It was as if he'd turned the one to two.
Opposites that never found the measure
of the balance of the truth.
Essentially, his youth was rich and treasured.
His mother's heart had beat beyond
the measure of his pain. Even there,
within the pouring rain. As bugles sang
again, the lost and lonely melody, of life
that father figures never really had
a chance to finish living.

Confusion growing in the great intrusions.
A flight of fate to lands across the sea.
Burdened by equality, the hidden past
rose vastly in his soul. His mother always
knew the way to quell his deep emotions.
He reached for her, expecting nothing less.
Lover, sister, wife and mother - surely
his decisions were decreed within
some fated destiny.

And yet, as time went on, he grew.
No matter all his indecision.
Now he looked upon unbidden
days of loving within other arms
than hers. Wondering why
he'd ever left her there. Wandering,
extracted sense, into the everywhere.
He saw it then, his self-appointed realms
of gross imprisonment. Wishing that he'd
never made it so. Shifting back to Logos,
icy calm preformed the walls around
his heart. Once upon a time, he'd dared
to start to make love real. But then, again,
he lost himself somehow. The moment now
was withering, in increments, within him.

The truth still haunted every waking moment
of his life, and dreamed itself into the deep of night.
For once upon a time he'd lived the essence
of true love. He knew it wasn't found in
up above or down below. So no matter any height
he claimed to fly within these days, the depth
of sorrow in his soul, stood too still within him.
And he'd never dared proclaim the love
he'd given up within the real of her...

? Michaelette ?

10/17/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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