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Personal Note:

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Poem

They spread across the table
to sway injuries of oak stained smothers, 
Just as though my values in obscure realities, 
comfortable by the sound of thrashing drums, 
the acoustic vigilant in the distance... 

The spread carried little suspense...
and emerged in the deck, 
a prophet 
somehow who silenced the room 
as he turned his back, 
then unearthed a whispered truth, 
admonished such self-deceit
in an underworld of resisted certainty, 
wasting the lives of those I love 
countering gifts of wisdom

No wheels would spin he told, 
Though quickly change is in each gust, 
Reached deep into the robe, and revealed
2 wands I now hold 
upside down in doubt of all my courage, 
defeated behind a coverlet of denial.

Yet in the distance...
as I consumed what I knew to be true, 
There was glimpse 
a High Priest who smiled, 
delivered 9 wands of fire
told me experience 
will draw me out of any doubt, 

and so my thoughts then vestured on you, 
allowed myself to retrace, 
and I stirred with belief as I requested faith, 
Then dared to ask a Priest so High
to show me what love might convey...
and upon waters of tainted dreams
and the lady who should carry hope 
Was fear.. 
then in a moment of vulnerability
the moon pounced 
just to tell me I was fooling myself, 
and priest laid the last sign for me that night..
my duty to accept the card of disillusioned.
but I don't know.

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