A Beautiful Lie.

He left – so long ago – and yet, you cry –
There is that tear within your glassy eye …
Denying this shall do you no good, my dear,
The life of your hope still shines in that tear.

I have loved you – with a necessity –
You are my breath; my soul’s eternity –
And then – he walks by, my love, and that tear
Appears,
it unmans me,
fills me with fear
That rips my heart to shreds – each time,
each time …

My friends told me, with arguments so fine,
Of how and why I ought to let you go;
My pride agreed, but – my heart shouted: “No!”
I was selfish – but no more!
I am done!

I shall move away! For your sake, I’ll shun
My hope – which I have saved, for so, so long …

I know my name takes no note in the song
You sing – but then, all you sang was bliss t’me
(It still is! That’s the pain of Memory!)

No more!
I am done.

And yet, so serene
Seem all those memories, that laugh, that smile –

But then, I was your laugh, he is your dream –
I lived a beautiful lie for a while;
And, now, it is high time I say my goodbye …

Though …
I’ll be near to wipe your tears if you cry.

Choices.

If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
Which would you choose? Me or those?
What would my eyes see? What would my heart find?

Oracles in my life warned in vain:
‘Find one who knows his choice, one who knows to fight;
The one who knows what is dark,
One who can shield and yet guide you to the light.’

Choices, after all, are often heart-made;
And there was your face – you came to me as a better choice,
The gentle heart behind golden eyes,
No matter the length of years or lack of diligent voice.

The time was such.
But beginnings are always passionate, star-bright,
You used to bring me flowers,
Those hours of impatient wait, those miss-you nights.

But things change,
There is so much to write;
If only I could lose …
If only you could fight.

If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
I know what you would choose,
And your regret of what you leave behind.

22 January.
5am

Darkness and Thorns.

The sky has dropped its foul, grey hue
Upon this world and me;
And when the wind comes howling through,
It brings no felicity.

The birds have lost their will to sing,
And mourn this darkened hour;
The sun becomes a had-been thing,
Which once had supreme power.

Those clouds that touch the earth are dark
And cover the surfaces of seas;
While ashes billow with each spark
And hound all like swarms of bees.

The world has no more flowers to offer
And there are thorns, thorns in my way;
And, I know, my blooms lie in a coffer,
But my thorns will not wilt away.

4th August