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08 Sep, 2010

bound by chains

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Poetry

08 Sep, 2010

Things,
she calls it…
Things,
as if she knows it didn’t just start with one string
of lies,
and now there’s no beginning
pulling an end to it,
and no more room to avoid it either.
And I wonder,
aren’t all our roads paved on a path of lies?
Perhaps, we fabricate
unwinding blindly
these silly truths in our own time,
are but a stone’s throw
from loving both shamefully and shamelessly.

All we can ever know when it comes to relationships is what works and what doesn’t. And all we can hope for is that what is given or taken from our time together is something we can feel good about, be proud of, and that inevitably provides the momentum that inspires us to make it past the things that don’t work and through another day, undaunted. The rest is pure chance. Better odds do not exist when any two hands clasp, it’s all a risk. We are all fools and poets at the end of the day. We are all betrayers and truth tellers. Courageously waiting, wishing, and hoping for that moment when the veil slips away and we finally discover, in a history of our making, our own story in another’s eyes. This is the purest origin of union; this is the ultimate tale of two lovers.

Posted by: Ascorpio
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06 Sep, 2010

Chagall's Bride

(First draft. I'm thinking of writing a small collection of Mark Chagall poems. I'm not sure that will be a viable project but it should be fun getting lost inside it.)