Inflate me if you must
You praise me, you inflate me, you build me up to be
the kind of person, the kind of man I do not see.
I feel that somewhere ?, within life’s shadow,
between the shades of no man’s land, hollow
are the places my soul and I seem to know.
I have travelled in the fast lane.
I have flew, with a few of the elite.
I have walked in sun, in clouds and in pain.
I have given nothing, accomplished no feat.
Like so many of us nowhere men can tell you,
- it’s in our dreams - and our nightmares too.
It’s behind the veiled, distorted, mystic wisdom,
from whence all true light must come.
Oh !, to be the life in a good morning son rise,
to carry on through, with passion, until noon on high.
Oh !, to know the glory of a sunset clim.
To reach the dreams of one who tried to achieve
the satisfaction of, but was not to be .
Melanie. Lee. Atfield.
I see you – many times – slither up into your dungeon,
wearing it, like it was a suite of armor protecting you from life,
from the outside world, from the reality you are living.
You hide from the world outside – so you think –
your pain, your fears, you hide them behind shields,
you hide them behind elaborate masks.
I watch you build me up to be
the kind of man I could never see.
I feel, somewhere within the shadows,
in between the shades of no man’s land
is the place I and my soul can find to stand.
I have travelled, with some, in the fast lane,
flew with a few who thought they be elite.
I have walked with men, / women who are plain.
With either, I have accomplished no great feat,
as so many, lost, nowhere man can tell you
by his dreams of , and in his nightmares,
veiled wisdom lost to the conscious mind.
B. J. “A” 2
May 10th 2002