Painful memories of reckless abandon,
Haunt my soul,
Enabling my regret to flourish,
And my rapture,
As if sleeping.
A bit smashed.
My own quiet surrender would lead me back,
To that timeless cavern,
Carving out a bench of moss,
Sanding countless shells of loss,
Grotto resting within my fixed heart,
With secret staircase for quick
Though a painful cutting,
This quick much too close to
My undressed core.
Endless hours of solitude
Have escaped my grasp,
Attempts to recover them fail,
As my body writhes and wrenches
Towards new shiny steel benches,
Who I am, Who I was,
But, those painful memories of abandon,
Continue to haunt,
As time, at once, asserts itself.
So quick to let go,
So quick to relinquish every thing
To the moon.
The life blood,
The source of my own coursing,
Diverted, restless river.
Too quick to shake off this cloak I have gained,
And spread myself thin.
Too quick to drown in strange new sorrows laid out
By a fantastic deceptive dance,
A specter of my own deluded vision.
Shrugging off wisdom,
Too quick like a butterfly discarding its own cocoon.
Looks back in grief,
Or merely moving,
Brushing the pain away,
Clearing away the precious shrugged-off dust
Of a life lived with presence,
Armed with a mind
And so night passes,
Illuminating the unseen:
The mystery, the unknown,
The soft grey halls of my inner sanctum,
Wandering on the outside
Of the endless labyrinth,
Striving towards the place without scar,
Losing my own wings to obtain transcendence
I soar above the dance,
My humbled heart has been hidden
Inside my sleeve,
My only request
That you care for
My stifled heart,
Delicately peel open,
Layers of tough and fibrous jade plaque
That surround its softly pliant and sanguine being,
Unearthed for me by-and-by,
My unborn evasive Why.