Lying Just Behind the Light

The means of measure Goes too far beyond Means of comprehension Mortal minds with fragile hearts Pressed together in love To form a downward-spiraling kaleidoscope Distant messages shout back Too ambiguous to discern Too long desired To reject The weight defines the value Still yet, not the means But ensues havoc Upon the soul it will wrought As the novelist torments himself With all that he “just wanted to say…” Alas, so dies the flame Guttering a bitter rattle For lack of circulation, And veins to push the flow Black, acid rain Showers down to heaven Painful and wanted not But refreshing all the same From what means brings the end to measure? The open door, the empty chair? Neglected by remembrance? Or carefully sheltered from recognition? Joy does not bring the depth Felt in flight through The bottomless pit Trapped within a moment Chained and bound by a word