You found the right words to make you fly -
And then glided on the wings of your freedom,
Your spirit soaring and
Seeking no name for your secret fame,
Anonymity being your precious comfort.
Yearning to touch with deeper meaning
With intuitive and tender fingertips -
Then madly putting a screeching halt to all of it.
You were the silent sigh of the star fish,
And the whisper of the conch.
You were the frenzied laughter in a gypsy dance.
You were the gentle whimper of an aching heart
And the wreaking reverence of a faithful pilgrim.
Passionately kissing the lips of Truth,
And dranking thirstily from the cup of Hope,
Shamelessly flirting with Beauty
Before deliberately murdering it.
You never gave in.
You never gave up.
You were Grande Dame of Poets' Hearts,
And First Mistress of Possibility.
Every instant in Time was pregnant
With Honesty and Truth.
Your fire burning so bright -
Burning us all to embers
Our souls rising like smoke from our ashes.
Where is our redemption through this destruction?
We thought Cleansing and Purity would surely come!
Passionate Messiah, you turned your back,
And then you calmly walked away.
Without so much as a Blessing!
Leaving us alone and afraid -
And even emptier than before
Where is that Spiritual Fire?
And why do we mourn in our Exile from you?
Aren't we better off without you?
You created Hell for us:
Letting is taste the Forbidden Fruit
And then denying us.
Shrugging us like cankered whores.
Trading your Conviction, Truth and Beauty
And All of your Causes
For a Magic Bag of Tricks -
For a Plastic Life in a Plastic World.
You will never know Happiness-
You never did.
© 1999 poetheart