These Empty Hands
I have been told that I need to grow up,
The bulletin just arrived on my desk that
I have issues manifold,
To share this drink an ineffectual cup,
Perceant words heard before hope's sliver of a door closed again despite attempts
untold,
The esoteric assembly gathers frivolous fools still flatter,
As the accused rises the jury renders their verdict,
Guilty of trying, crying and attempting to take from the platter,
Banishment to lands where even failure fears to fail ware the poisonous jibes and
darkling despair's abyssal pits,
As he staggers with blistered, tired feet,
For anything he would do for her sweetest words in the ears to deign,
Try to grasp the memory of a memory,
these empty hands incomplete,
He would have given her his jester's crown on bended knee end the reign,
Reaching for you, only these empty hands,
Does the death of desire bring low
a harrowed heart,
Looking any where for you, finding only
vacant and tattered lands,
Perhaps only the dust of despair and the
ashes of dejection his true love's first
kiss will impart,
Stumbling upon your words of rejection,
with these empty hands I find,
Thought she was finally the one but no so setting my lost sun's glow,
Wayward feet reach the shoals of left behind,
Back to the boat I see the murder of joy and the theft of glee upon seven seas of
solitude once more to row,
The mournful masterpiece finished at last,
These empty hands only wanted to hold you,
The mantilla removed the covering lifted
crystalline truth for all who pass,
Two empty hands grasping for yet just out of reach your unattainable heart which
never knew
Copyright © Jason James | Year Posted 2011
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