Saturday, September 25, 2010

of, not in

Childhood memories
imaginary playmates, wondrous fantasies
disappointing realities
I build my gingerbread cave
burn off bits as needed
against the cold
Deep in the woods of childhood
every tree, every lizard, toad,
bramble creating
tunneling stories, glamorous
productions, adventure, romance
Opening eyes upon petty spites,
lonely habits of duty
I look behind to shining grace
realize my place
out, far from grim, grey dawn
upon dawn
listening for enchanting pipes
of Pan to follow 
past the painted sky

Gonna build our army for God
Oh the glory, Oh the rapture
millions of souls marching home

Pushing me
sad, shadow memory
I never know what to answer
Hard harsh faces
leer, jeer, beg for tears
I dare not cry
Held by my arms
fiercely protective
Stale tears drip through
the valves of my heart
caustic, bred of poison
A lonely infant cries in the night,
learning to be human

Blind old seer, wizard, holy prophet
stumbling over rocky hillocks
toward the sun
beseeches, sings, ululates
opening passage, veils, gates
free to breathe, drink, be absorbed

London Bridge is burning, burning
The towers are struck and fallen down
With time and tide a'turning
What was lost may still be found
In a world of lads and lasses
Hale and strong, brave and true
Joined in singing, 
Raise our glasses
And do as we must do

Masked Lady Moon shines
into my room
speaks of fantastic adventure
Dare I question her
abundant concern?
I a masked gypsy
painted in gloom,
a taste for wry humour,
impossible promises,
resplendent terrain.
A woman insane,
taken in by the Moon
fair sister, sparkling cold
so far
I have no home
but that clear, quiet salvation
hiding like Moonlight
unmasked in my mind

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