"writing poetry, starts in my soul, flows through my heart, up to my head, then it's out of my hands"
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Something Wonderful
Something Wonderful
So i wonder
if the parting is worth all the pain
is the suffering
of this succulent need all in vain,
can it be
that we two can rekindle that token
and refire
the light of that first dawn left broken.
Will we learn
how to twist this soul burning fire
into something else
other than a fervent desire.
Lessons learnt
while your dark skin, slipped in, and covered me,
In your absence
I was rapt in a pure secret fantasy.
Dark and slow,
will we learn, how to live and be free,
to let go,
of the jaws of that grasping monstrosity,
and relax,
into arms as we float down this stream,
to recall,
what in love we once found in a dream.
To transform
each ecstatic, blind panicked, suffering,
into love,
where these once broken wings are left hovering,
is a trick
that neither, ever quite managed,
all we left
were two souls entwined but still damaged.
So in love,
that has flowed through my soul since we met,
and consumed,
every tower and wall that was set,
brick by brick,
in a place that i built in the dark,
crashing down,
in the bright bloody pools of my heart.
In the end,
when the silence is all we are left,
will we know
how to turn out these hearts left bereft,
or in doubt
torn in two, by each dark naked moment
will the scorn
burn a hole like a coal in each torment.
All the pain
metamorphosized now in this union
born of art
a creatively transformed communion
is a bridge
and a lift that has taken us higher
far beyond
the sad sullied pangs of desire.
In that stand,
we might find we can never go back,
hold my hand,
and together we'll walk down this track
so in time
we might follow the cracks of this break
and befriend
what we lost in that dark distant heartache.
© Richard Michael Parker 2012
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