Skin and Scars
(Rare and Surprising
Returning Thoughts of You in Latter Days of Shadows, Love Echoed between
Ghosts)
(Can Our Scars Never
Felt in Lost Time be Forgotten)
L. Edgar Otto 21 October, 2012
Your dreams are wider
than you can contain
a failed galaxy out of the mainstream of changing stars
Virtual worlds but
pale shadows, full of colours and
specters between the scrambling, receptive
to alien forms
Inhaled in the name
of balancing spirits an new birth
of forgetfulness, only in time the darkness
returns, realigns
What is to you a
prison or trap, a precipice unto freedom
or false freedom jumping into the river of
time blind,
Some reveling as if
this one and only love and moment your heart's ground
entertainment, waters not probed deeply of
others or your own
Beyond touch what you
image of their thoughts, you walled in your
privacy and guilty pleasures for release of
spirits within
The razor and pass
thru the frozen valleys flows the blood
that peacefully we sleep, save the one sane
moments when we touch
Can you not see, too
late if we are honest
the best of my songs were about you and not
me
Now that you have
felt the quiet again, chosen not to speak so not to join the flood of words
where on the tightrope you balanced between those who make no sense between
awake and dreams, to insure your being kneeling before the fall recalled and felt the quiet and silence,
survived the ordeal, the risky brittle quenching at the metals fall that made
your strong
If in matters of
Love, its truths and myths, its higher reality
of oneness and measure in the stratosphere
wisdom is enough
We in latter days
share in solitude every hearts loneliness
While the walls quell
the fire, his blood and slight of hand
mixed with yours, tainted yet not contagious
the sandman's putrid sand
Still inside you this
closure in all directions so long to heal a
stipped mine pock mark pot holes left come
night Bespectacled milky skin, cannot allow and risk as time itself
forbids, a new awakening of from the deep
longing in your womb, new life unmarred and whole in its beginnings
Love, its reality and
unreality cannot compete with such dreaming left then a dull insensitivity our
now gray sense of it and the world
Nor any hope so believed of fanciful faith beyond this world's time
nor even that once I loved you so much, Love
itself my sacrifice and left a beastly mark where I had to let you go...
* * * *
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