Spent on Make-Believe

Everything I worked for has evaporated;
every one I truly love, forgotten I exist.
I wander lonely corridors, that drift
quite out of time and space and me.
Still I am, but now without a reason
why, or goal that I might someday
yet fulfill.

The God of my youth deserted me
long ago, if ever he was really there
at all. It seems he used to walk
with me, but memories can be so
utterly deceiving. They mix and
blend, unconsciously conceiving
what was never real at all. And
no matter how I ask him just to come
to be with me within my life again, he
doesn't come. I walk alone.

I sit and weep without a touch of
empathy or hand to ease the endless
tears away. The only set of foot
prints in the sand remain just mine.
No one ever carried me beyond
this empty, aching heart of time;
where insanity becomes a sport,
that once I used to play.

He came and went through days and
nights, just like the child who used to
pray in innocent, uncompromised
belief. The churches fill with empty
echoing of might have been. The
altar thick with dust, encrusted with
a spongy mold. The tabernacle lies
upended; long ago, the gold was stripped
away by other hands than mine.

No worth of mystery is left unclaimed
by mortal man. Softly, softly, whispering,
a childlike choir sings of all the many
joys a loving heart can bring. The
memories are playing with my heart-
strings yet again, as another round
of tears is spent on this,
the make-believe...

? Michaelette ?

12/2/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...