The Rush

Oh how I miss it the rush the roar Feeling with one more push yet I could soar I felt it in many ways and at many times That a moment in the future would be perfect rhyme There were three types 'pon which I could expound Three times of moment, of philosophy profound One is the When, when the air was to shriek When speed built so great and heart craved final leap Another was blood, of fist and of flesh Springing from deep rage, of fury tempest The last was surprising, in dichotomy, appearance That love could climax, make di-saster imminent For the first I paid money, and thought it unjust Bought as it was with a temp'ry, pointless rush The second brought pain, and a glimpse of myself Troglodyte 'neath skin, released but now shelfed The third was a shock, which for long I did hunger And when was found surprised, pulled in with soft succor There it held me with its sweet soft embrace A constant taken granted, of satin and lace Yet from which did I learn, do I agonize As I move on through life, constant analyze Maybe the first, for I saw foolish youth And see my impulses, for all they - uncouth Possibly the second, as it showed me the power Of the demon which inside each of us does glower Of most moment is third, that constantly beckons It consumes all man's mind, makes constantly reckon Yes, for now I do contemplate And ponder my fate As I career and seek sate In my painter's laminate My longed-for mate Is yet to amaze I thought I had made But she left, at last spate Now I imagine one other of late But she is born either of love or of hate I know not now which, for it is a race To see which blooms first, my love or my hate Two battle for soul, one light and one dark They both see me true, but one must depart The one who loves without reason or guile or mark Must decide whether I can be light or my current dark The one who does not try, yet holds me awry Must one day she straighten, decide love or lie...