Jared Z. Holloway 6/23/2008
I have no recollection_
Of former days past,
As I sit in silence,
With only a pen in my hand.
I gaze upon myself in a mirror,
And see only a shadow of what I was.
I twisted visage of what once existed,
Beneath the skin and bones.
I cannot imagine the depth,
And yet it all appears shallow,
As I once again sit in silence,
With only a pen in my hand.
The interrogation has ended,
And I have been asked to write,
But of what,
I do not know,
Nor do I dream of what my hand is able to say.
If my feet could talk,
Many stories would they tell,
And if my heart was not stone,
Its voice would be a song.
For my soul to speak,
One must remove the chains,
And my mind has been ordered,
And abstinence is its name.
I look back upon the reflection,
And smile for patience was never my game,
Nor was wisdom,
Only recklessness and rebellion.
My name is known,
By some with a smile,
But by most with a sneer,
And part of me cares,
Only if but for their angst is not all in truth.
For my life I have sensed nothing,
Yet everything has been promised,
And I fear only what I can see,
For if I cannot see it,
The fear would be wasted upon nothing.
My past is my future,
And my present my past,
And my future has been sealed by the seers,
Known to all and to none,
And yet everyone has claims.
I have loved and lost,
I have won and hated,
And yet the angel still remains,
Like fresh dew upon the ground,
And I long for that fog to cover me once again.
Love has never been my enemy,
And hate has not been my friend,
Though my friend has not been kept close,
And the walls around my essence have only grown,
Fortified by the pain I unleash upon myself,
In the name of the gods,
In the name of love.
Wicked prophets let loose,
And like puppets on a string,
Many have jumped,
Yes, even I have been guilty,
Of both the jump,
And of the prophecy,
And yet I remain,
A stone on a mending wall,
And yet no mending comes,
Only more stones fall to the ground.
At times I like to be alone,
And yet I hate the loneliness,
And yet it is the one hate I cannot fight,
For it persists in all of my corners,
Even in the light,
Though people would say I prefer the night.
I do not know my preference,
For I have worked in both,
I have prevailed in both,
And likewise failed as well.
Oh the silence is like a song,
One of Poe’s poems,
To my enslaved soul.
Must I dream of a rescuer?
For I am not a damsel,
No am I in distress,
And yet my face shows the signs of fading.
No dragon guards me,
Only my own foolishness,
And no great wizard guides me,
Only my own fear,
For even Merlin could not contain me.
I have sympathy for the devil,
Yet even he does not envy my station,
For though demons will not wrestle with me,
Even angels fear to tread.
Pilate would have a hard time with me,
And Barabbas would have been frightened to have been freed.
Even Caesar himself could not conquer,
Virgil and Cicero could not write,
Hannibal would have taken his life,
And let the Alps cover his corpse,
While Alexander would have never crossed my borders,
And yet, the goddess has weakened me,
For my heart longs for her,
And my soul longs for her to turn the key.
Religions fail and fall,
Empires fade within themselves,
And yet, I remain,
And the angel turns her head away.
For her forbearance has been challenged,
And my self righteousness has conquered,
And she cannot bear to remain,
Only run into the sun and become ashes to my mind.
My lust to wander beckons me,
But I cannot move,
For as I have seen,
I am but a shadow of myself,
Only an inkling of what I should be.
What brings this demise to me?
Myself I presume,
And I long for a cure,
However slim I truly believe in one.
Maybe it does matter,
I dare not hope,
And yet I dare not say it does not,
For her love is great,
However so is her pain.
Pain I, and countless others_
And yet I have intensified it from a flame,
Into a raging fire.
I fear my judgment day,
Yet I also long for it.
MY heart beat weak,
Both from the lack of love,
And the lack of truth I feel,
But also for the sickness inside.
I close my eyes…
And I remember the ecstasy,
The taste of her skin,
The lightning in her touch,
And the wine of her lips.
The sweat covered like a light rain,
And her smile conquered all of my fear,
All my doubts faded away,
And then I peer into the mirror,
And see the shadow of what I was.
Chaos has ruled my head,
As Chronos has counted my days,
I pray he continues to count,
But I dare not disturb him.
For Atlas has shifted the weight,
And I see a trident rise out of the oceans.
I do not know of the future,
Only of my past,
And yet the reflection of the past,
Reaches the present,
And I long for the cure,
The cure of the shadow.