The Whole Is There

I'm not hiding from the greater world.
I feel it all too poignantly within my weary soul.
The whole is there, in their minorities.
If only they could find a way to see
within the shadows that they bear.

Heart grown weak - let's speak of
all the speed contained within
the waking world of man's reality.
I must insist, now that I know for sure
this life of mine in time must surely
have an end.

The doctors and the nurses tell me
I'm too young to give into the growing old.
And yet my soul insists that I must
come to understand the base and basics
of it all. And so, I've risen high
and fallen down, too often to repeat.

This story speaks around deceits
of ever moving up and on to peaks
that never held the answer there.
It is as if the sense of death did not
depend upon each birth of form in flesh.
Facial reconstruction, and they
vacuum out the fat within your flesh.

Pray tell, what difference does that
really make...? When everything
we are must dwell within the realms
of spirit seeking whole. As mankind
claims protection of the innocent
and feminine, why is it that they push
us into all the famine of the wars
they choose - to profit economically
at best, but not at all within the loss
of love and life it bears...?

Win or lose, we live into forever.
Love - the mark that never fades away.
Opening into a sunny day. Then cyclical,
the fading into darkness yet again.
As if the night had messages to give.
Miracles of life that might be lived.
More than dreams, a prophecy -
if only we believed in such a vision.

Dreams never brought perfection,
and yet still, they made us reach
for realms that intellect kicks out
as unforgiven. Within unruly manmade
laws that never found the strength
to reach for our hearts' home.

No one could ever really hide
from all the world out there.
Nature, in and of itself, could
not allow itself such separation.
No matter any species man decreed.

For the whole is there, in each minority.
If only man could find a way to see
within the shadows that they bear -
that whisper so incessantly of life
and all its loving the mystery...

? Michaelette ?

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