#hazel-black

 There is endless capacity for the boundaries of intimacy

And if it is so what you shall see in me, then it is so

What I shall see in you

  And there is no end to the suffering you so wish to prevent in

My heart, just as there is no end to yours

Just as the sky would refuse to illuminate our paths

Then so shall I, be a beacon of this unwavering light

  Perhaps what you may seek may not be light – for

It is so clearly an affinity to which you do not aspire;

But I can also be nothing more or nothing less than

The affinity I desire

  And is it the truth of a generation that we all seek out

Those with such wisdom, those with little humility –

At such age, that we feel comfortable to be with

Ourselves?

  On what shelves do we place our hearts for such matters

Of pursuit, so irrational as they may be?

How can you call yourself an experiment in the making of

My life when such a part of me is lost?

  I cannot measure significance in a night, but just the

Same as you cannot measure my sight

  What truth presents itself shall do so in whatever future

Lies in my wake –

What company or misery becomes a dreaming reality

And suffice to say that certain plans I would have

To remake – such is the nature of the world, such the

Torment of humanity

  II So do the trials of human error echo, so too they ring

Out imperfectly;

Such is the limitation of my foresight, such the imitation

For it is the path she has chosen for herself,

Decidedly the most rewarding and appealing

  It is not significant that the dreamer loves with might

For it is the path she has fallen into,

  The price for everything to stand

In illumination,

Cannot stand always on its own

Accord

  Challenges met by riverlight, in

Grueling landscapes,

Play out their worth by that

Morn’ light evergreen

  And just to lay and watch, to

Breathe the magnificence of

Everything

  And fulfillment comes after the

Silence of days;

Achievement in bright daylight, and

In the quietest haze

  Rain on my illusions, Fate, rain

On these days

Bring forth continuum, bring with

Let Hell fires blaze in the thick of

Memory

  A realm of finality and comfort is

Why so religiously, o young boy,

Would you aim to capture the essence

Of that which was beautiful,

Bountiful, wise?

  For is it not your role to so condemn

The sacred practices of love,

The matrimony of tradition?

  That love of which I speak, among

The gods, among the heroes and the

Kings

  Among the spirits and all kin;

And so celebrated as to shake

Holy foundations to their depths

And to so form great ambition

  From which life springs not, but instead,

The spirit of life;

Without which life could indeed not be,

  And the tides and earth all drawn apart

So methodically, what expectation must

Take me to the divine nights of winter,

Where my Pantheon still stands,

In its glory and the greater horizon

Of its span

  Take with you my spirit, with which

Aid will come at call;

And I listen resolutely, to the

Wistful, fine rainfall

  What nary devils call you out

Of your higher settling grounds,

What to sacrifice do offer, you,

With all your ties so bound?

  Take me, you, away

And cease all the measures

Of my heart, of which you take

From these words of mine and

Follow the natural order of things and

Happiness will come easy

  For it is not a thing sought, nor will

It come so

  Believe none other against the will

Of the Order

  For aid will be placed and the path

  For whatever time may the rain steal

The winter cold comfort cometh;

  What seasons must be bared alone,

So shall the seasons of forgiveness giveth

  What wrongs are made, the sunlight

Shower, in her embrace, they wither

  And beauty of the greatest sort

Comes shining after the storm delivers

  What brand, what marking, do you make,

Upon here, my skin to remember

  I seek to you, induce, pertain me to