Pic: Schnapper Rock Cemetery Auckland, New Zealand.
Old friend I fear no peace, no life’s atone, only silent condemnation disguised - this misfortune is mine and mine alone and to that end I have philosophised. To the wider picture of death and woe and to the same fates of unventured love - to life’s grim audit of joy and sorrow, to dream to unknow what I am sure of. We are a hostage to our tyrannies, prisoners of old hostilities. Locked away for life and time and I fear the years have outlived mine. That I be ambushed in early gambit for my king was a sacrifice too great - just a pawn in a game and I am it plays out its capture and stalemate. He not bared to his human desires nor fruit on the essential vines thirsts alone - and in the great fu*kening at my core is an ache and fate that I must own. We are a hostage to our tyrannies, prisoners of old hostilities. Locked away for life and time and I fear the years have outlived mine. Now a debt of faith is ransomed this day and worse, a debit of an endless morrow - a usury I must now bear and pay, and from the heart this I had to borrow. Yet I know only the end redeems all but is late reprieve to a suffered heart - there are no happy endings but withal my spirit is gentled should I depart. We are a hostage to our tyrannies, prisoners of old hostilities. Locked away for life and time and I fear the years have outlived mine. Written: September 1995
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