...and I must write

...and I must write

I hear crescendo in my body,
bursting at the fissures in my mind,
churning up the tears that flow from springs
inside the prototype of flesh that I became...
far back when dreamers went exploring.

I hear the song passed on
from those grey men who marched,
and laid their hopes aside,
their passion drained—I hear the word drums
beating cadence as I rest.

I do not know what is to come,
yet I may not hold fast
against its strange caress,
invincible duress that emptiness alone
invites in spirit intercourse.

It isn't quite enough
to joke of muses, deities,
or objects of desire.
It is the hollow place inside
that calls, that sets a turbulence

too urgent to deny. And I
must serve its singular intent,
accomplice to its mystery
and lover to its fervent power
so long as it prevails.

We are a race caught up
together in romance,
a melding of delight and sorrow
in the dance of arrows to the heart—
a dance of danger and necessity.

Now may such wonder be preserved,
and understanding such a rarity
as to be left behind. The cadence thrums
its unforgiving song,
and will you dance with me?
~