“I love you.” & a ridiculous joke is born!
for she stands there tall & distant with her perfect face & broken heart.
as ageing boy lost in empty cave admits defeat.
& watches waters flood the fields around.
Here he burns his eyes in weary night.
& again she walks.
from here to there & always past. her perfect illusion grand & strong.
& there he lies. with an open door unhinged. a draft of winter sailing by.
proud, her picture hangs in temple built. though letter sent remains untouched by precious hate.
i question why.
but she does not read. she does not kiss. she does not even know that man exists.
that candle in his cave holds flame. an orange glow which talks alone.
a memory. a dream. a face of fantasy, she projects delight upon his thirsting lips…
& aches. & hurts. & pains.
& i promise he writes not to record a weary death to you my friends, to you who pass by easily
but to tell to her one day that love stays strong. despite the weakness of this dying man.
& a dream he holds to meet with her. to bring her back to sense & love.
to grant to her the kingdom won & all the rights that she once held.
for I know that he would ride with her across this land & defeat this world at large.
but yet, she seems ignorant of him.
that life has given her to, it seems…to drown…in confusion…in swamps of thought. in human excess & childish distraction.
indeed I question if her fatal choice is but her own.
a million times i scream at her, each time these words disowned.
she hides in jest. & fears. or worse….allows her dreams with others merged.
those not of sane impression or deserved attention. those I hate & burn me whole.
I watch her walk. & love. & create a world not mine.
& construct ever larger, ever higher, ever more impossible fences for me to breach, a fence of hate around her self.
& thus, with another night’s defeat & hope, i look at her again.
& ask of prince’s prayer, that love, that futile goal, shall…?
shall tender lay my lips…& dreams…& merry thoughts
upon her fragile heart.
© Ed Simkins