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Atalanta
More swiftly than the wild winds, I run
Locked in this elusive course,
This flight from your desire.
Although soul-bound, by will not my own,
Mastered not by the want of sweet release,
But by fear,
I run.
Not to be had for the wanting, I run.
Risk not death for my favor,
For there is no boon to be had.
I wish not look on your last lights fading,
Nor see that sweet smiled dimmed.
I beg of you,
Run
To scape Loves wily snares, I run.
In the sound of each foots steady fall,
My lonely heart does ache within.
My silent prayer to falter, again unheard.
With each step sure as the one before: I weep.
Still,
I run.
This contest all but at its end, I run,
Desperate for your victory,
A traitorous eye is turned to your distraction.
Lost in the moment, this race, my heart
As you clear the line a step ahead,
No longer
Do I run.
This is the last that I will run
For though I fear the loss of self,
I fear the loneliness more.
Within you perhaps, is one as lonely, too.
And your race run not for the prize of love,
But for the promise of death,
That you did out run.
Daybreak
I awoke to the sound of the stars singing,
Lifting their voices in celebration not of their own selves,
Though glorious in their own bright and varied-color hues,
But in heralding another's light,
Revealed in the new day's dawning.
How perfect the harmony, how joyful the noise,
Though with each clear note, their own light seemed to fade.
The crowning sun did reverently bow to each dimmed star,
And did give to each its thanks
For the light they did so willingly, so selflessly impart.
And so the sun, birthed into the rosy dawn,
Does make its course across its daytime skies.
The light of a thousand shining stars eclipsed not by its brilliance,
But carried within its glowing rays
And placed in full before the view of the denizens of the day.
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Kindred
It is strange that I should find in you this kindred soul,
This fellow dancer poised on the edge of insanity,
This ranter and raver, this reveler in baser things,
Speaker of the same mad language as I.
It is curious how my thoughts are spoken in your voice,
And how my own does echo the snarls and roars of your inner beast,
Rough and guttural.
Were the songs we sing composed with us in mind?
Were the words that laid our selves to bare written by others,
Or were they penned in secret by our own guilty hands?
And how could this be that two faces gazing into the same abyss
See but one reflection return the intrusion?
And how is it that this disruption of solitude does endure
Even in the most profound isolation?
Perhaps it is that our minds did wander when these shells could not,
And, in wandering did become lost.
Two souls abandoned to a vast desert devoid of time and space.
And in this aimless drift did find another not like ourselves,
But who did become so,
As those who travel together for a time upon the same road are wont to do.
It is perhaps, more simply this: As dark does shadow light,
And so often that relentless love gives way to deepest hate,
So it is ceaseless company born from our reclusion.
And even still in partnership we are shrouded in seclusion.
It troubles me immeasurably that I should find in you this kindred soul,
This fellow dancer poised on the edge of insanity,
This ranter and raver, this reveler in baser things,
Speaker of the same mad language as I.
Troubling even more so that I do not know your name.
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