One teardrop
crystalline in its defensive structure
diamond-like, it falls
from the icy eye of one
who never came to know
the feel of innocence

As a void of light unravels
the many moods of shadows
playing endlessly through distant sight
and the night moves on
seeking one sure moment
of an everlasting dawn
led upon a path that ever forms itself
of all that's never been the known before

Crystal radiating molten beams of light
that spear the atmosphere in laser-like affects
uncaring how they wound or what destruction
they might leave within their wake
for meaning is beyond the very scope
of their one-sidedness

And the light-show explodes in muted wonder
fire flaring in the icy air of thinner skies
its only purpose to receive attention
and the kind of power only light in showers
seems to bring to bear beyond the care
and meaning of our possibilities

Snowflakes falling silently
mute the clash of numbed desensitivity;
passion then unanimated in its deepest sense
as fire and ice are spent within the poles
of a paralyzing paradox
of pure misunderstanding
with truth no more than just a seed
remaining at the core of the unknown

For love has fled yet once again
into the shadowed realms of make-believe
and nothing can relieve the restlessness
of its encagement - pacing round and round
within a cell too small to utter the significance
of the magnificence of pure experience
that lies beyond the bounds
of all deliverance from pain
and rages on in storms of utter being
still seeking desperately for utterance

Many simply try to let it pass unnoticed
but rage has a way of building on itself
multiplying as it seeks a resolution
but held and bound, it circles round
upon itself and builds in increments
into a great explosive power that moves
within the time and hour of all demise
alive in volatility and dire destructiveness
unable to transcend itself or rise above
the depth of all silence that lies in its wake
unwilling to shake the instinctual need
of its own basic need to survive

Yet time and time again, the tears withheld
attempt another healing for naught
never quite enough to make a difference
for the past is hung suspended in abeyance
centered in the crystalline affects
that speak of glory, cold and icy
as yet unfelt by warmth's humidity
that never knew a summer breeze
or felt the beauty of an opening rose

And then one lonely teardrop
crystalline in its defensive structure
hard and diamond-like, it falls
from the icy eye of one
who never came to know
the feel of innocence
until its tale, told too late
just shatters
while its icy glitter gathers beams
of morning light
too late to take its fall . . .


Copyright© 2000 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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