01 June, 2008

That Other

That Other

How is it that we share these tiny threads
between us like miniature brush strokes
on a microscopic canvas of particle grains;
yet share nothing of the definition there?
I can see these traces in all the outlines of
your face, as if we were jointly moulded;
though all similarity is fleeting once I have
peered beyond this membrane into your
eyes, into that soft meat of your internal.
Would be connection broken, lying in ruins.

I contemplated once to keep you from harm
in my embrace, and you would stand by and
recognize my comfort, and fear would abate.
So tiny you were, like a solitary model soldier
standing at attention, continuously in thought,
eternally considering what approaches you’d
take within any endeavour, so brilliant, alert,
you would have this world in your tiny palm.
Now, discoloured visions of your feint glories.
I’d dreamt so much for you, now insignificant.

A charlatan had notions to pilfer your hide to
his own malevolent campaign whimsy, and I
alone appear to experience its wretchedness.
What ever became of the boy who once lived
inside that body? Him who’s avid fascination
was an embodiment of all who dared dream?
Is there no salvation from the despondency he
came to suffer while his guise was stolen away?
I fear now as his semblance was mangled; alas,
that shining beacon contained, has so followed.
any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008
(Please contact the author with questions.)

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