There are moments,
When a scream of defiance,
Fist thrown at the heavens,
Would be the action of my heart.
I want to grab the Fates with both hands,
And shake them until they acquiesce,
Giving me the life I want,
Taking the pain, the loneliness,
The nights spent staring into
The darkness,
Silently speaking her name.
I want to run naked through fields,
Dive headfirst into unknown rivers,
Daring the thorns and rocks
To touch me,
Fighting to win a prize
I’ll never hold.
Instead, I sit here,
Pushing words around a
Paper replica of life,
Drawing passion from a well
Deeper than the heavens,
Pouring love into a garden,
And praying that it will grow,
Knowing the harvest will
Not be mine.
There are moments,
When the scream of my soul,
Is like the roar of a storm,
Howling over oceans,
Only to die in the desert
That is my life, here, now,
Silently.
My blood still pulses,
Filling dreams as strong today,
As they were before the
Graying of my body,
Before the light in my eyes
Became mostly tears.
My hands still contain caresses,
Yet to be given.
My lips and my tongue
Can still form gentle words
And soft kisses.
I am still a man.
Alas, the Fates have caged my passion,
Left the fruit of my dreams
To wither on vines, now hidden
Behind a younger forest.
Even the winds seldom reach me,
With the whispers I still long to hear,
And in my heart, I scream at the world,
When they come upon me,
Those moments.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
There are moments,
When a scream of defiance,
Fist thrown at the heavens,
Would be the action of my heart.
I want to grab the Fates with both hands,
And shake them until they acquiesce,
Giving me the life I want,
Taking the pain, the loneliness,
The nights spent staring into
The darkness,
Silently speaking her name.
I want to run naked through fields,
Dive headfirst into unknown rivers,
Daring the thorns and rocks
To touch me,
Fighting to win a prize
I’ll never hold.
Instead, I sit here,
Pushing words around a
Paper replica of life,
Drawing passion from a well
Deeper than the heavens,
Pouring love into a garden,
And praying that it will grow,
Knowing the harvest will
Not be mine.
There are moments,
When the scream of my soul,
Is like the roar of a storm,
Howling over oceans,
Only to die in the desert
That is my life, here, now,
Silently.
My blood still pulses,
Filling dreams as strong today,
As they were before the
Graying of my body,
Before the light in my eyes
Became mostly tears.
My hands still contain caresses,
Yet to be given.
My lips and my tongue
Can still form gentle words
And soft kisses.
I am still a man.
Alas, the Fates have caged my passion,
Left the fruit of my dreams
To wither on vines, now hidden
Behind a younger forest.
Even the winds seldom reach me,
With the whispers I still long to hear,
And in my heart, I scream at the world,
When they come upon me,
Those moments.