September 27, 2005

Unlike my shadow

Like my shadow, I can see your outline, your shape,
      but not the details - of your eyes and belly-button,
      for example.
Like my shadow, I can see you more clearly sometimes
      than other times.
Like my shadow, you come and you go.
Like my shadow, you are, to me, the recognition and proof       of my existence - especially when I see you.
Like my shadow, you are not me, but a part of me.
Like my shadow, you are something I've created.
Like my shadow, you are real and you exist.
But

Unlike my shadow, I cannot touch you when I reach
      for you.

September 18, 2005

Bedtime Story for a Little Girl

Let me tell you a story you don’t want to hear
About Love and Death and a roomful of fear

In the light and darkness of this full-moon night
Is the promise of earthly and ethereal delights

Love manifests Himself in His own capricious fashion
And comes to my bed as a dazzling apparition

His lips are full and red, His eyes are a colorless gray
His hair is the color of moonbeams, reflecting the dawn
                                                                              sun’s rays

“I am Love, come to offer you Myself,” He whispers
“If you should turn Me away, you will be cursed.”

I huddle into my bedsheets, trembling in fear:
This is a promise I would never wish to hear

“I will hurt you, I will make you cry,
“I will give you Happiness on Whose wings you’ll fly

“Embrace me, and you’ll always bleed and bruise,
“And around your neck will hang a hangman’s noose

“Turn Me away, and so help Me,
“You'll find only dolor in your destiny

“Now that you have heard Me out, you must make your
                                                                                      choice:
“Do you prefer eternal misery or a savoring of partial
                                                                                     joys?”

I dread to make my decision, I will neither desire
One or the other, it is a leap into infernal fire

But soft steps suddenly sound across the room
Slowly a shadow appears and over Love it looms

Then I see Her, and I recognize Her at once
Then my quavering fear Love’s immediately becomes

“Hello, My Love,” She says, and then gives Him a kiss
“It is such a pleasure to see You again, it really is.”

She smiles with the brilliance of the midday sun
And Love’s colors immediately begin to wan

She shimmers like an aurora, an exquisite sight to behold
She is far removed from what you have all heard told

No black cloak does She wear, nor does a scythe carry She
She holds no hour-glass in which trickle the sands of
                                                                              eternity

She is not foreboding, she bears not iniquity
Her aura is one of tenderness and of tranquility

In Her calming presence I grow less afraid
My trembles do subside and my awful dread does fade

But Love recoils and seems to want to flee Her company
As She stands before my bed and smiles gently down at
                                                                                             me

“My child, I have come,” She says, “to offer Myself as well
“But I offer you neither a partial heaven nor a complete
                                                                                            hell

“Love fears me greatly, as you can clearly see,
“But it is only because He does not at all know Me

“He thinks He will cease to exist when I am near
“And this fallacy is His greatest fear

“I am everywhere He is, and everywhere He’s not
“I am the end and genesis of everybody’s lot

“Now, if you wish, you may take my hand
“Or if you’ll not, I will come to you again

“So speak, my child, give Us your answer
“What you will choose of what We two may offer.”

Love holds out His hand and in it I see a butterfly
It flits and flirts about, but in true liberty it cannot fly

For a moment I am mesmerized by its beautiful wings
For a moment I am tempted by the promises it brings

I turn to Death, and see She holds not out her hand
She only smiles and waits, and silently she stands

Then in my night-bed to my window I turn
And as I gaze at the full moon, I make my decision

This is a story you might not want to hear
Of Love and of Death, but no longer of fear

“I have made my choice,” I say, “and my choice is You.
“I will accept any consequence which to me is due.”

“Very well,” Love says; and, “Very well,” says Death
Then one vanishes into the night, and only one is left

On my back, I feel a pair of wings begin to grow
They are incandescent like a fire-fly’s glow

These wings are lovelier than anything I’ve seen
And my spirits feel lighter than they have ever been

“I am ready now,” I say, and prepare myself for flight
My wings unfold, and I take Death’s hand and fly into the
                                                                                            night

So this is the story I tell that you may hear
It is of Love and Death, and not at all of fear

September 07, 2005

Are You Still There

Are you still there
Somewhere
Are you still there
Nowhere

When my eyes open
Not of their own accord
Oh so reluctant
To the chiming of the clock
Are you still there
Somewhere
Are you still there
Nowhere

I’d swear you were real
You’d been solid to touch
If only dreams could kill
I’d be in your clutches
But my eyes open
It is unintentional
Straight down to hell from your heaven
I am inconsolable
Are you still there
Somewhere
Are you still there
Nowhere

With you I’m always happy
Without you I’m lost
I won’t struggle when you claim me
I swear I’ll lose myself at any cost
Still my eyes open
They just won’t stay closed
My promise is not forgotten
But you are like a ghost
Are you still there
Somewhere
Are you still there
Nowhere

Maybe one day you’d appear
Finally in my waking life
And you won’t disappear
In the blink of an eye
So when my eyes open
I won’t be in tears
I won’t have been dreamin’
Won’t be waking to my darkest fears
Wondering
Wondering
Are you still there
Somewhere
Are you still there
Nowhere

Will you be there
Somewhere
Will you be here

September 06, 2005

Windowpanes

Listen to the wind outside
Beatin’ at the windows
Howlin’ let me in

Is it angry, desperate or scared
Beatin’ at the windows
Howlin’ let me in

The windowpanes are rattling
Trembling in their frames
They seem incapable of withstanding
Even the slightest blame

Harder and louder the wind’s gettin’
Beatin’ at the windows
Howlin’ let me in

The windowpanes are rattling
Trembling in their frames
They seem incapable of withstanding
Even the slightest blame

Then it’s silent, the wind’s stopped it seems
Beatin’ at the windows
Howlin’ let me in

The windowpanes are settling
Calming in their frames
They’re incapable of withstanding
Even the slightest blame

Listenin’ to the wind outside
Beatin’ hard against them
Howlin’ let me in

The windowpanes are settling
Calming in their frames
They’re incapable of withstanding
Even the slightest blame

They’re always impervious
To the most vociferous rain
They’ve always been impervious
Even to the most palpable pain

She keeps a window open

She keeps a window open
In the darkest night
Though it’s not been proven
She’s been waiting to take flight

Her name may not be Annabel
Her name may not be Lee
But she’s read the poem really well
And she’s been waiting for a wind
With which she could flee

She believes a wind will come one night
And bear her away, let her take flight
Take her over the rainbow
And make it all right

She keeps a window open
In the darkest night
It ain’t just a token
She’s been waiting to take flight
Over the rainbow
Where it is all right

Wearing a Nightshirt in the Light of Day (A Waltz)

Wearing a nightshirt in the light of day
What, oh what, does this say
Of the state of her mind
And the conflicts in kind
That she’s not quite there
Though you can’t say where
Or what makes her wear
A nightshirt in the light of day

Wearing a nightshirt in the light of day
What, oh what, can this say
She’s trapped in a place
But she’s no mental case
She just doesn’t know
Which way the rivers flow
Or what makes her wear
A nightshirt in the light of day

Wearing a nightshirt in the light of day
What, oh what, will they say
She hasn’t a clue
As to what she should do
There is no day or night
No sense in sight
To tell her not to wear
A nightshirt in the light of day

Wearing a nightshirt in the light of day
This is what it ought to say
She doesn’t care
About when or where
Or about the norm
To which she should conform
That tells her not to wear
A nightshirt in the light of day