For we have thought the larger thoughts
    And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes,
    Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
    Another in the day.

Pain is not what we feel
But who we are.

If it should come to be,
This proof of you and me,
This type and sign
Of hours that smiled and shone,
And yet seemed dead and gone
As old-world wine:

Of Them Within the Gate
Ask we no richer fate,
No boon above,
For girl child or for boy,
My gift of life and joy,
Your gift of love.

Do not wait for me.
As troubling as it may seem
I babble on
breaking brooks
in my stone laden
dreams.

Do not stop
or slow a step behind.
Please proceed.
I hope you find
the peace of mind
that eludes me.

Do not carry me
when I fall.
For I am far to broken
and each shard
of my being
is a dangerous thing
made of
silver and sterling
nighttime daydreams.

Do not worry,
I was in no hurry.
While you rushed into
the death you thought you knew
I stayed behind
to enjoy this time of mine.

Do not look back.
Fear finds its own facts
and sadly I lack
that spark which knows eternity.
Unfortunately, there is only me
here in the moment
on my mud rock
that pirouettes space.

Do not stop.
Go on and rush to death
because heaven or hell
awaits your final breath.
I don’t mind
keeping my heaven and hell here.
Whilst you wither and disappear
I’ll enjoy the crystal clear
running water,
the clean skies,
the beautiful animals
that you cannot take with you
when you die.

Do not worry one bit.
I got this.
Just go on my dear
I’ll rest right here
because this is such
a sweet and wonderful
but one time only life.

Till I met you
I used to duel
with scores of
shadow men.

I dropped the
dripping wax
that burnt me
from within
the skin
of the mirror.

Night after night
I would watch
the monster
grow and grow
and wonder if
I could find a way
to end it.

Several times I tried
to ride that final ride,
to slide the sharper side
of my rusted knife
in my enemy’s thighs
or across his wrists
as he clenched his fists,
willing him to bleed out

But he would still follow me
and in the night I could see
reflections of this darker being
staring right back at me
with eyes as black
as whatever was on
the other side of the glass.

He spoke like me,
broke like me,
and even scavenged
petal free stems
with thorns
that ripped my skin.
Until you my friend
on whom I now depend
to keep me tethered
to my tattered sanity,
who helps me laugh
at my darker past,
came at last.

But if my past
ever comes back
and I have to see,
that face of hate
that haunted me
I hope you are there
waiting with me
cause a mirror
is a very dangerous thing.