A moment passes and something beautiful dies,
there were watercolor constellations,
dappled, darkling gems of light,
behind us, glinting in jasper, and violet skies,
but now only darkness,
the constellations in silent splendor,
bleeding fire from my eyes,
the constellations of
diamonds have fallen,
and once where my heart found laughter,
only tears remain,
and once in silence I trusted-
such deep hopes!
Higher than all before them,
a daredevil on the wire!
Now a ball of fire,
forward motion, now sinking in those hopes,
slowly tangled by the noose of their ropes,
you would think after a year or so,
one could let go, let go!
And how?
I don't know-
how to express that
yesterday is a slave to tomorrow,
for we have taken what was not ours to borrow,
the wicked borrow and do not repay,
that has become our culture, this our way,
"even in laughter the heart may sorrow"
so how does this story end?
It ends with a whimper,
and mangled hopes,
a harpist's hand severed in the machine,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
The sad singer with his tongue severed,
can never speak out,
can only scream,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
-dm (c) 2015