SO much do I want !!!
Of that which I may never have ???
Upon the retina of these eyes
- burned deep, are the images of your face –.
Upon the synoptic lays the essence of you
- burned deep into the psyche of this man -.
Upon the empty hours of my days, my nights
- my soul cries out, reaches out to touch you –
- my spirit cries out in a desire to fly with you –
- my heart cries out with much love for you –
- my eyes cry out, they bleed for the sight of you-
- my being cries out for the gift of love from you –
- my essence cries out in pain !, knowing that you
reject my love, my passion, knowing my hope for you
- all lie within the burning flames of a funeral pyre -
- all of my fallen dreams, of dashed hopes, of my reveries-.
My dreams, hopes, desires, reveries, all slain by cruel winds
of time passed, of experiences, of memories that haunt.
I fear that my dream will never see the light of day
nor dance among beams of light, light of the full moon
nor ever mazurka to tunes of love – together as one.
I want to tear down your stone walls, lift your veil !
I want to kiss away all the debris – turn your face to the sun.
I would love to kiss your soul, your spirit, your intellect ,
your inner and outer beauty, your stone cold heart – buried
behind those icy, steel doors, in walls erected to protect
that keep me at bay, keep me away, keep me from touching you.
I would love to kiss the lady, the artist, the free-spirit within you.
I would love to walk – always – hand in hand, arm in arm
with all of that which makes up the beautiful person I see.
I want to kiss to be able to away all of your past, your pain.
I want to kiss life, back into, what I feel is stagnant passion.
I want so much to kiss your gorgeous mouth, your sweet lips,
your pulchritudinous smile, kiss fire into your Autumn green eyes
and every molecule, every atom, every strand of your D. N. A.
that has gone into making up the woman, the beauty, the Moneca.
To eradicate and be able to kiss my way into the depths,
the depths of your heart, your life, your acceptance.
I want to kiss away all that seems to bind you
to your current state of mind – your desire for aloneness –
that shrouds millions of miles of empty, shallow, painful
journeys that have brought you to the edges of this abyss.
Of coarse all the above is but an old man’s dream,
a desire for a beauty, I delude myself into believing
I could ever know intimately, this unattainable illusion
that comes from my pen, that tells a story of, from
the perspective, the desire for, the experiences with.
That is life !, and what is life ? but the tragedies known,
the joys and pleasures of the journey that got one there.
B. J. “A ” 2
July 10th 2007
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2015