|
By Ali Date: 2002 Aug 25 Comment on this Work [[2002.08.25.11.52.12979]] |
|
I am of a foolish heart, Quietly convinced by the Forgotten To dream, But the one that comes to mind Has long been broken, A mockery of the beauty, That should be there to find-- I am unsure of this direction. I spoke of yesterday with confidence, But that confidence was feigned, And therefore I was but a fraud, An actor on a stage, And this world moved on, Moved away, As willed by time's expanse-- I may be left behind, But I am never far from view. What songs are sung In such an absence? What words are spoken For the soul to soar, As if the Phoenix would awaken, After distant trials such as these? I know not what else can be endured, Nor what else can be explained, For I find no reasonable theory, Nor suitable situation That would render all of this Allowable, Feaseable, Or otherwise, Concievable-- Is this then, Another painted lie? I cannot coax an answer From such a jilted toungue, But with dire apprehension The moment does approach, So I find I must choose, And quickly so, What I believe in best, And trust in most-- Once this cost me dearly, And I pray that it will not be so, Again. How it is now, As the wounded dream Somehow still manages to enchant, Entreating perhaps Destiny-- Disappointment, Deception, Disaster, Or the Divine-- Everything that once was, Everything that is now, And everything that will be, Comes raining down, Balancing on this one Approaching moment, And I wonder, If I truly dare to try And see this dream through, But in reality, The decision is already made, And the truth need not be spoken, For I am brazenly, Of a foolish heart. |