Who will satisfy the sandpipers of Oblivion?
Who dares draw a sword to quell their song?
To lay waste such intoxicating judgements
of one's sanctity,
of one's purity,
of one's trust?
Where is it written that Love lives in abundance?
That dreams never die?
That Hope is eternal?
What motivates Greed?
What satiates Lust?
When will the answers come,
Will I know of their arrival?
Or have they come already,
merely choosing to overlook
these starstruck eyes of dissension.
To withhold forever the salve
of wounds festering in alienation.
Drip by drip distilling
all clarity of thought,
all peace of mind
all sanity of soul...
Why do I hang on
when all around me has let go?
Is this my strength?
Who am I,
that Death, himself, would not have me?
that Time teases with slow decay
by swift moving hands
I can never hold...
How am I to break chains I cannot see?
How am I to embrace what is not there?
Did tomorrow not die
in that melee called Yesterday?
Tell me then, my friend,
How am yet
For all behind was dark and drear,
And all before was night and fear.
How many hours of night or day
In those suspended pangs I lay,
I could not tell; I scarcely knew
If this were human breath I drew.
[This message has been edited by Michael (edited 04-04-2000).]