Mentor Shakespeare!
He said that expectation was the thief of all joy.
(Or was it his cousin Comparison?
It might not make a difference.)
If I may address you,
Adhered--blessed Grandfather of my soul's art,
My God's created conduit to His inspiration that flows through me constantly,
The ceaseless voice I can never shake off--
I feel this is my only release
In the pain I feel
--Blessed grandfather,
And Father,
Ease me in this tumult:
I was inclined after a few
Short grasps of eyes meeting eyes
A shared Smile
Maybe then I thought,
The loneliness could be lifted,
Drifted,
Acquitted,
Only just for a moment!
Only just for a brief break from the drab outline of the life I call mine!
(And yet, it is not!)
I thought perhaps I was worth a moment
Of a precious creation's time.
Was it not commonplace to build such dreams
In the sand of my stormy shore'd mind
But Fathers,
What sparks!
What electricity can bring down the tallest tower that stands alone in the barrenness of the world,
To an elevated illumination in the highest clouds of the most brilliant heaven of Love!
Ah, the sharpness of the memories jolts me still!
But what of it?
All my visions are turned to naught,
And I have been struck down
And returned to the far corners where I am unreached.
Alone and unsought,
Feasibly content, the tallest tower remains in its solitude,
Unaware that the absence of life cannot render a knowledge of its true state.
What a sad shape we are in,
To expect the world, over a single pearl found
On the tossed beach of the soul.