I: Musings on the Future
my future is blank
anything might happen
my life is empty
despite the past I carry
"the youth are our future," they say
now I know why:
our lives haven't begun
it scares and excites me
this foggy vast expanse
is constantly changing
my future is uncertain
Steady, her name
balanced its sword or spear or pole
to fight, or to throw, or to catch a fish
gleaming in the sun?
No one knows.
Strong stood the feet of her name;
her letters spilled and pooled and stayed
firm in serifs and type,
and curled at the edges like old paper chains
gilded golden with light.
Her name, teasing loops
of a soft-spun web or a knotted rope
cast to the water, wide-flung her net--
what sought she to catch within
those loosely woven threads?
They call it 'otherworldly'--
the nectar-colored sky
behind the blackened front
of the approaching summer storm...
the sunlight and the rain that come at once,
dripping gold...
the sighing of the wind among
the youngest of the trees...
the stirring of the lake
beneath the water lilies...
'Otherworldly'.
I laugh at them--
at the narrow minds
that speak of other worlds but cannot grasp
the wonders of their own,
who cannot fathom sun and rain at once...
or a nectar-colored sky.
He was darkness personified.
Evil in human form.
Frozen and heartless
His chest was an empty hole.
Immovable, unshakable
Carried out his orders perfectly
and without mercy or thought
Trained from the cradle
as a killer
Never had he felt before
Never had he known love
the feel of a mother's kiss upon his cheek
the feel of comfort in a father's arms
the knowing of trust from a child's eyes
Pain, he understood most closely
Despair was his companian
Reeking havoc was his nature