How light the virgin heart,
ignorant to the depth
and danger
lurking within
seven seas of love.

The shore of silent serenity
guarding these pure
from the deranged;
veteran, victims voided
as rheum upon the base beach
of solid reason.

Light indeed, for it knows not
what might have been
what could have been,
or what should have been
only what is and what was.

It knows only the pleasure;
unique to that plot,
the simple pleasure
of self-awareness
and selfist pursuit.

The unclouded heart freely walks
the well-worn path
to a haven;
a construct erected by his past
that will not be denied
by any present dwelling.

Strolling, lazily rolling
within the wild, prideful
pubescent pastures of youth
longing for days
which I will control
the time which is mine,
and yet is not.

Will there EVER be a time
when I control
my tongue, my heart, my desire
the potent portent
of tectonic eruption
so near the surface
of my skin
that even I fear the thoughts
flashing within my eyes.

Will there EVER be a time
when my eyes meet those of a peer
and our speech is not presaged
by the question mark of worth
hanging upon my head?

Life again has evolved,
the heart as one with the mind;
denial driving desire--to know,
consummed by reason and logic,
rather than the reason for life itself.

The fleeting seconds become years
of discourse on this narrow course of avoidance.
Confidence blossoms in the early summer son;
desire grows into a passion to expound
and explicate the cold facts of life--
The Mythical Cynical Stoic
effectively has crushed
his sweet Romantic sister.

A painful alarm almost silently
rises among the towering waves
of cool blue swelling
just beyond my reach for the truth.

Crushing indecision,
beats down upon my back:
these feelings,
feel more threatening
than any prior thought in fact.
The conflict resolves
as a quiet hand, an eerie
almost electric attraction
soon pulls me ahead of reason
as I now swoon within the sea
of my uncharted passion.

Engulfed by a power
consumming me and
destroying the me;
knocking me down
repeatedly as I struggle
to reach the failing voice
I alone can hear.

New strength,
now at one with this power;
free from the shore, reborn
and girded in my attempted
journey of salvation.

Pulling my quest close to my chest,
I swim in quiet awe of the beauty
now held tight within my arms.

Together we alone float freely as one
in an eye of calm and are untouched
by the current swirling around us,
ignoring its lethal force.

Though safely in each other,
the coast of the real
forbodingly approaches,
and as our energy builds
raising us above the shore
I see clearly again
and deduce that this immovable object
will weaken our glorious overwhelming force.

No longer submerged in private bliss,
rather dashed upon a public shore,
intimate smiles and too tender touches
replaced by bickering and blaming
for the cause of our now separate state.

Coughing, wheezing, and weakened
upon now 'foreign' ground I search
in vain for what was the vein
feeding the life that now seems lost.

Once again safely entrenched
within the firm foundation of reason
I now no longer hear the cry
which beckoned me to leave
this dry, lifeless haven.

I searched far and near,
never leaving the coast,
or water out of fear
that my lost treasure
might pass again the beach
which breached us,
and has kept us forever
out of my reach.

The fallow fields of this,
my lonely autumn,
find me again cloaked
beneath logic and reason,
and as the harvest ripens
within me, I set myself upon
the banquet of youth
so they may feed
on my experience and wisdom.

I revisit the village,
my home as a child,
walking into a past
that then was not mine,
no more in fact
than it is right now.

"A pleasant retreat
of solid homes
on well-paved streets
of high ivy walls",

restraining the view
of what the future
may hold for us all.

Now that I finally control
my tongue, my heart, my desire
I have also seen that
life without longing is not really life at all,
and sadly the sole longing within my soul
is to be somewhere, anywhere but here.

I am bound to a past, unable to forget,
the one lost soul who touched my heart.

Endless, Soundless evenings
spent contemptously staring
at waves breaking in my own sea
of pity, I finally see,
that the soul who was lost
in fact, was me.

The cries for salvation
were from my own untried heart,
Finding hope and beauty
for only the blink of an eye,
I feel blessed
for finding it at all.