Tag Archives: soul

My Iniquity

 

The darkened sky,

A transformative canvas,

Black, as a starless night,

My soul heretofore rising and falling,

On seemingly blatant whims,

Manic yes,

Depressed no,

Setting me on an uncharted course,

Of history, the present and future yet revealed,

Empty, like a new found easel,

Palette stained with the blood on my hands,

And yours,

Decision made,

To have the most perfect child of the light,

Months of manic expression,

Blessed transformation of my soul,

Decision made,

Miserable repression of wretched sorrow,

In a feigned attempt to rid myself of my acceptance,

Of a choice, I dare not make,

Let alone accept,

But what choice could there be,

Cleaning the slate to record the singularity events,

We’re barely yet to understand,

You, moved on, with nary a thought for what we’ve done,

Me,

Trapped inside festering deliberations of the apparent lie I bought,

Selling my soul once more to an imagined devil,

Selling my soul for your comfort,

Placing your needs above my own,

As expected,

Demanded,

By the circumstances of fate,

Hmong Key,

Deleterious choices that were not mine,

But to which I am a party,

And will eternally be strained to accept,

The theorems of our own grandeur decorated,

Foolish grown children,

Playing with fire,

Whereby I alone am burned,

By the footsteps I will never hear,

The cries I can never answer,

The first words I will never hear,

Launching me into a vanguard of disheartened insurrection,

Perplexed, by how quickly in a moment, all can change,

And for what,

To what profit,

In the red,

Celebrated scourging accolades, unearned,

For once more I failed my child,

I failed my love,

Hmong Key, how did I fail you?

I did fail you, didn’t I?

Like an exam I could not understand,

Words like gibberish, heard but never agreed,

For the wide canyon between our desires,

Grand,

So easily unseated by the opinion of others,

Family or no,

The choice made, was yours and yours alone,

Though I can not fault you,

For you did what you had to do,

And I stood by,

Like a trainer ready to throw in the towel,

Constantly reimagining what could have been,

What should have been,

What most I appeal for to the Ether,

What most you chide as a non event in your life,

Evidenced by the ease in which you,

Tossing our child, our love and me sideways,

Castaway by immature reconciliations,

Serving neither you nor I,

Though surely a life sentence I am again to serve,

Parole from these manifestations an unlikely event,

Causation,

Dwelled on like a circadian rhythm without deliberation or meditation,

Though for all the days between that and this,

I have thought of little more,

Than ten fingers and ten toes,

Blue eyes and black hair,

Beyond the superficial, horizons seen,

Realizing that I have flown too close to the sun,

Clipped wings,

Shattered soul,

From the veracity pained before our mutual eyes,

The tree of life, yours, mine,

And our beautiful child,

Stolen from my grasp,

As I clutched to the hope that finally,

Here and now,

It was to be,

Or instead not to be,

As my vicious companion,

My black dog reminds me,

And despite the noblest of intentions,

I failed you,

Our child, unborn,

Aborted,

And myself,

Authentic pleas loudly expressed,

Though the Ether did not hear,

Would not hear,

You refused to hear,

For here we are,

Separated by time and space,

Forever connected by the love we made,

Conceiving an innocent victim,

To our foolishness,

From which our existence is unabated,

Though not that of our child,

As we slaughter you whole, one by one by one,

As I have time and again and again,

Lost that most dear to me,

Ten fingers,

Ten toes,

Woe be not me,

Yet distressingly I bemoan what could not be,

For reasons clear as mud,

Yet crystal in your demise,

My child,

Beautiful child,

Innocent,

Choking as you did on our avarice,

Only to breath into fresh suggestions, disregarding our malice,

As if you could,

As if you should,

Bent on allowing us to thrive and continue to survive,

Though you, innocent, could not live,

Despite the persistence of our choosing,

At your expense,

And that of our continued optimism,

For now restless I consider,

All you could have been,

And all that I stole from you,

Your first breath,

The beating of your beautiful heart,

The resplendence of your love born soul,

Regardless of my veneration of it,

Devotion to not just the idea of you,

But in fact, you,

I am now stuck in place,

Quicksand of emotional sinking,

Peculiar reproductions, of the time before,

And the time before that,

I guess the third time is not a charm,

But instead the noose I wear around my neck,

Waiting for the floor to collapse between my feet,

The only punishment suitable,

The bear trap crushing my soul,

One hurtful thought at a time

Evocative spectacle of menacing exquisiteness,

For truly you would have been exquisite,

In my mind’s eye you always will be,

What of your thoughts Hmong Key?

What do you see when you close your eyes at night?

Is the nightmare the same as for I?

Portentous, sinister and yet curiously inviting,

As three dimensions squeezed into two,

And for a time two became three,

We,

Mother,

Father and unborn child,

Aborted,

As the final countdown reached the hour of my defeat,

You knocked up, pregnancy a suit you wore well,

And me knocked out,

By the simplicity of your words,

Followed by actions,

Transiting mine own compromise once more,

Door closed on the haunted house of my trespasses,

Under pressure,

Pressures,

That I, myself, had ill conceived,

Though you, my child, were not,

Instead realized in a moment of blind passion,

That continues to consume me,

As we did you,

Foolish children we were,

Are,

Loosing our souls,

To gain what?

To what avail?

Loosing each other,

And a piece of ourselves to which we will never arise,

At least not I,

You traverse unanswered, buttress our intimidation of beings,

She and I,

Mother and Father,

Become judge, jury and executioner,

Executioner, once more,

For both she and I,

Loosing more than just you,

But a piece of us,

Conceptions of love revealed,

To be the false hope of prophetic wisdom,

Fanatical depictions of what was, could have been and now is,

Not,

By what right of universal law,

Those commands from the Ether,

What right,

Did we have?

Ultimately giving way to the thoughts of man,

Touchdown in mere minutes upon this empty void,

Whereby you suffered,

I suffer,

Depressed and manic,

Considering the role I played,

The life you gave,

That I allowed to fall victim,

Once more,

An act of love, true and necessary,

For her, not I,

But I was a passenger in this crime,

Necessarily so,

For as man, I have no right,

To deter the decisions of your mother,

Or any woman,

No excuse offered,

Rather the acknowledgement of my delinquency,

My crime, convicted,

For I did stand idly by,

Waiting for you to die,

Of my feebleness to prevent this,

Longing for you to see the light of day,

Rather sent to the pits of hell,

By me,

Those steps I long to hear,

Now are the nightmare that I experience,

Night and day,

Flamboyant bizarre dints,

My psyche dented,

From a child love invented,

And cowardice took away,

Too easily, though not for I,

Or I and I,

Broken fragments of a dream shattered,

Reflecting the reality of the decision made,

And for what?

A proper penchant of collective tête-à-tête,

Though no words could I say,

Other than I supported her in your demise,

That also represents a dying on mine own,

Awkward,

In stains, blood, shades, hues and tones, all red,

Millions of them,

Demolishing what I thought I was,

For what again I’m become,

Failing you,

Failing her,

Failing,

Period,

Deluded by hidden lies,

Behind a radiant smile,

And glowing eyes,

That now seem, at least a bit,

To have lost their glint,

Just as my own,

Brought to the forefront of perception, judicious,

Judge, jury and executioner,

Ignorance of universal law is no excuse,

For what we’ve done,

Restrained sway of the eye enclosed,

Millions of possibilities,

Only one outcome,

As I failed you,

My child,

Beautiful boy or girl,

The language of my greatest burden,

Playing God,

While He/She/It/ They laugh,

At our imprudence,

Suffering now my crime of omission,

In a galaxy confined in the brain, rightly so grey,

For in this decision there was no black nor white,

Only grey,

The central question, importance and measure of our lives,

Our desire born love child,

Delicate haunting arms outstretched,

But to no avail,

You begged to be assumed, moved, valued,

Though no value did you have for she,

Seemingly only me,

As our tree of life is evermore death,

Yours,

Amplified in bewildering events,

One pill at a time,

Followed by the source of life,

Water,

Which again found the path of least resistance,

And I was held captive,

In symbolic penitentiary and isolation,

Our intention understood,

But not accepted,

Rippling loops artifact humiliating me once more,

Gushing tears at the banality of this man,

This consecrated gift, ours,

You,

Raped,

Without recourse or further consideration,

How can one be so cold,

Decision made, no explanation and instead the running of the bulls,

Whereby the Key,

In fact, once more became the lock,

That holds me prisoner,

Shackled by the very thought of you,

And what I have done,

Once more,

Ever more,

It was me,

It was she,

And the empty vagaries of an apology,

Falls upon her deaf ears,

And my wounded heart and soul,

Forced solitude to engage my darkest hour,

As the hour of your birth approaches,

Stolen from you,

Stolen from me,

I am failed,

I am convict,

Guilty,

Of crimes against humanity,

Against you,

My unborn child,

Cast aside,

Aborted,

And thus my torture ensues,

Considering the iniquity of man,

My own,

Iniquity,

 

I am,

 

Sorry!

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Nightmare Rising

 

The nightmares came,

And now they come again,

Again,

Two of them,

In rapid succession,

Sometimes for days,

Sometimes for weeks,

This year for months,

As the brisk November air,

Is greeted by the cool summer breeze,

Beyond belief reminding me of that sullen day in Detroit,

As sub tropical realities break through,

And painful decisions do recoil.

Torture quelling any thought other than you, as I tortured you,

As both cruel and unusual punishment,

For what did you do?

What did you do?

N O T H I N G

Your existence enough to cause your demise,

That knowledge stays with me,

And again reminds me of what  I have done,

We?

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Always has and always will,

Reminded of what power and money can do,

And people that truly don’t see,

Forest for the trees,

The misery of mental projections,

Internalized hellish trial,

Mine own,

Of my crime against humanity,

Against my own child,

C H I L D R E N,

Family?

So, so, so sorry am I,

Silent stalker of repressed emotions,

Those that I must endure,

For to do less would mean my own quietus,

The instant terror does not creep,

But leaps,

Inside my psyche and haunts my sleep,

Shaking my resolve as I awake,

The skeletons in my closet are not only proverbial,

Skeletons,

Abstractly literal,

The symbolism of this agony,

So overpowering I am assaulted,

As a domestic abuse that I conceded,

Robbing you of life, lives,

As I did,

I did,

You live on, frightfully, inside this mind,

Torn already into three parts,

I and I and I,

With a bids eye view of what an abortion looks like,

With a front row seat,

Apparent encores without bravos,

Gashes in this weary soul, reliving the pain of a broken heart,

My greatest aspirations, taken,

AGAIN,

Reliving time and again how it feels,

To watch the light of an unborn child,

Snubbed,

By my hand,

By my hand?

ME?

In surreal images, lurid, prurient,

Of your mother, running toward me,

Tears welling up in her eyes,

As her shrill and piercing screams,

Command that I look at you,

As she carry you,

Both of you covered in blood,

Running down the hall of that clinic,

Its institutional walls and discrete exterior,

So perfectly recorded in every detail,

That I could walk from Toronto with my eyes closed,

Having returned to the scene of the crime since our time,

A trip that I will never forget,

And have taken again,

Closing them now,

No good, for I am here,

The Mekong calling me,

I do look, my humanity demands it,

For even as I may try not to,

I lost more than my innocence that day,

And this one that follows,

And again,

I lost the gift of life, the power of it,

Taken away by over zealous parents,

Your mothers,

Family, friends and others,

Who despite our designs,

Instead decided that they knew better,

As time passes and I reflect,

Making the same mistakes,

On the events leading up to your demise,

I beat myself up,

Raising my head to the heavens;

“RELEASE ME…”

I embrace the raw emotions and feelings,

Knowing that I must experience this pain,

To account for the ill done against you,

And YOU,

That ill,

With a resonance that becomes master of my thoughts,

Divided, confused, scared, shocked, upset,

Berating, deflating, never abating,

For nothing would change,

Could change,

What we were forced to do,

What we chose to do,

What I said was all right,

Knowing that my solace will only arrive,

When I know your mother has again been with child,

And I too get to hold dear a child of my own,

I’m sorry,

An apology that seems vacuous now,

But it is true,

I am,

Sorry.

SORRY!

SDM

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What Dreams MAY Come

 

Perchance,

These words fall not upon deaf ears

Or an erstwhile impenetrable soul,

Perchance,

These words enter through loving eyes,

Knowing that these sentiments rare,

Are the truest form of me,

Expressed herein,

Delightfully,

Though feared lost in translation,

Cultural mores,

Yet here I stand defiant,

Like a child at play,

With you,

Tickling the fancy of your greatest desires,

Roaming free and invited into the dreams you seek,

Piercing the armor that you so deftly have created,

Come to you like a knight,

In tales of yonder,

Where the damsel in distress,

You,

Is saved,

Figuratively and literally,

By me,

Here and now!

Perchance,

These words enter into your mind,

Understood by ripe passion,

Filter free from worry,

That they may alight your greatest fantasies,

Here and now,

Of the life you crave,

The life you deserve,

The life I’d like to make with you,

Perchance,

These words enter you like water,

Finding the path of least resistance,

Where they hit right at the heart of you,

Like the gods ambrosia,

Intoxicating you with a restored vision,

Sacred,

Beautiful,

For what was and what could be,

With you,

For you,

For us,

Perchance!

Perchance,

These words could unlock the chambers of your insecurity,

Demanding nothing more of you,

Than that delicious smile,

The one that lights up every room,

With your eyes dancing like an inverse moon,

Eclipsed,

By you,

I will go in this way,

Discovering that what may be may be,

Come,

To this,

At the head wondering, wandering and wishing,

To share with you,

Every moment,

Perfect, imperfect and all together plain,

Though with you,

None could be plain,

For you are like that fairy tale princess,

And I a low suitor,

Longing to raise up to become that knight,

To take you to the life you’ve always sought,

Perchance!

Perchance these words restore that faith lost,

For reasons inconsequential,

That neither define me nor you,

Nor the clear admiration and adoration that we share,

Perchance,

These words,

Beg the reason of reason released,

For in affairs such as these,

The heart and soul,

There need not be reasons,

Only compassion,

Understanding,

Trust and the daily affirmation,

That I am yours,

And you are mine.

Perchance,

These words,

Could possibly heal your wounds,

Could possibly reveal you to you,

And thus more to me,

Beyond the naked expression of beauty that I have

Already born witness to,

Captured as I have been,

By the radiance of you,

Bedazzled by the awe that you inspire,

Uplifted by your sweet gentleness,

Hoping,

Panging,

Yearning,

For you to see,

Who I am,

Who I seek to be,

With you…

Perchance!

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Can You…

Can you…

Can you forgive me…

 

I hope you can

And trust you will;

 

For I pang for a life of,

Once upon a times,

And happily ever after,

With you…

 

All ye that have been reckless,

Without regard or understanding,

The condition within,

Conditions,

For this wounded man,

Figurative and literal,

Brutally torn and tattered,

Hidden realities and invisible scars,

I can let no one see,

For when I do the result is inevitable,

An inverse rabbit in the hat,

POOF…

 

GONE!

 

I fault you not,

For choosing the easier road,

For truly there is no easy road in life,

I fault you not,

How could I,

Considering that I know myself,

My three selves,

I and I and I,

And at times even I am uncertain,

As to whether or not,

I am comfortable in my own skin,

I assure you I am,

Not,

And have not been for quite some time;

 

I have to be, though,

And I attempt daily,

To find the strength,

I attempt daily,

To give you reassurances,

A necessary aplomb,

That I can and will beat this thing,

This unbeatable,

Unbearable,

Unbelievable,

Life,

This jewel that remains unpolished,

Uncut stones,

Like tracts of time,

Rivers on Mars,

*(desiring instead Eros)

Those reveal our deepest wounds,

Mine hiding behind compartments of beaming soul shine,

Fighting to overcome my black dog,

Constant cruel companion,

I fight;

 

I can’t apologize for my wounds,

I just can’t,

Hard to believe,

Well you should,

Perhaps if you read my palm,

Perhaps if you read me,

Reached inside and held tenderly,

This abject sorrow,

Endless,

Heaving me through time,

From place to place,

Longing for a home,

A love,

A wife,

A home,

A family,

A life;

Longing for you…

 

You’d get it,

You’d understand,

Why I turn the colour of an aubergine,

At the very thought,

Of a love requited,

A love with you,

A thought I’ve held dear,

Since my life fell apart,

In an instant,

Instances,

Of this chivalrous knighted,

Fool,

And how am I fool,

Looking to put my feet on firm ground,

The terra firma,

Of your heart,

Like in fairy tales,

That delivers me from evil,

And reminds me,

Of all that is before us,

What do we do now?

What do we do now?

All ye that have been reckless,

With this wounded man,

How do I forgive you,

With grace, compassion, empathy, understanding and love,

Can you do the same?

 

Will you?

Please…

 

SDM

 

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Lost Generation (Found Love?)

  

If I could cradle you again in my arms,

Like these past weekend,

A lifetime shared in beautiful moments,

Collected,

Feel the body electric between us,

Soul mates now advance,

Or is it depart,

Apart yet together,

Knowing that you feel you have to to do what you’re doing,

Without knowing why,

And refusing to see the truth

I too must now move on,

Progress to the conviction,

That it is no contradiction,

That this can be,

Sing my own body electric,

For you,

For the rest of the world to see,

Let the voices in my head,

And the Ether,

The giants of my craft,

Use me as their conduit that I may produce,

My epic,

These stories,

Unearth for the world,

The universe,

The truths of these demons,

Those come dressed to me in tuxedos and ball gowns,

Entreating me to dance the love hypnotic,

Can you be hypnotized,

Captivated,

Enraptured in these emotions rare,

A virtual green fairy, produced,

Inside my own mind,

Expose that my calling once ignored,

Save for the women of my Muse delight,

Is now the central feature of a life lived?

Am I now complete?
Not without you!

In the pursuit of happiness and love,

For others,

Without acknowledging what I need,

Thinking of the Lost Generation,
Living with them,

Drinking, eating and partying,

My delusions,

I can feel Zelda’s breath on my neck,

As she whispers sweet everything’s in my ear,

As I wish you would, and have,

I can hear Pablo as he twirls his fingers,

Explaining the abstract,

To those that will never get it,

But he will get them,

He persists,

Determined little bastard,

Note to self;

Become a determined little bastard,

Gertrude takes me by the hand,

Walks me to the Seine,

Waves her arms dramatically and says;

“This is the river of your discontent;

Let it ebb and flow,

As true as the words you write,

And you will find,

Find you will,

The answers that you seek,”

 

In the corner F. Scott and Ernest are laughing,

Drawing me near,

With their alcohol blemished wisdom,

Just as my own,

The sage like discord you’d expect from giants,

Of personality, spirit, mind and life itself,

Ernest in earnest,

Says to me;

“Go on Son, the world is your oyster;

It is time for you to find a pearl,

A pearl you must,

Travel far and wide,

Inside your mind and in the world,

Find your voice,

Your voice,”

F. Scott scoffs;

“My boy,

It is time for you,

Time for only you,

Live gloriously,

Fabulously,

Relentlessly,

Find your inner playboy,

And reveal to me that Jay is not the greatest character,

Reveal to me that you are the chosen light,

Reveal it to the world,

They are waiting.”

In unison they declare;

“She is waiting for you… you just need to find her.”

So I smirk,

As I realize that my joy,

Is in these words,

My love is in these words,

Abundant and without end,

Just as my love has always been for you,

Proverbial and literal.

As F. Scott finishes Pound rounds the corner,

Slaps me on the back and says;

“Wisdom they impart,

Is only that, which you may find,

Your fingers dance,

Your mind is a beautiful tangled and intertwined tango,

Easy for you,

Now you must find your flamenco,

Do with these words,

What you will,

Go wise young man;

For you are one of us,

Truly.”

With that,

I am brought back to this world,

To this time,

The present,

Where I must find my way,

Find my way,

To excellence,

Personal greatness,

Where I can find you,

Literal,

That we may both shine,

Basking in the glory of love,

Of life,

Of uncertainty,

And find that I may triumph,

In spite of my black dog,

The curse of depression,

Repressed,

By you, for you, with you,

If you’d let me,

What if man never dreamed of the stars?

Never dreamed of flight?
Of going under the sea?

Of being a family man,

With love and a true life,

What more matters?

To wit,

We all raise and glass and say;

“LIVE…”

SDM

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My Name is Sender…

Lend me your eyes;

Hi, my name is Sender and I have a problem,

Problems…

My life recorded invisibly on my body,

You can not see,

Or fathom,

Indelibly on my soul,

Like a crown of thorns,

Though you have already embraced it,

And ganders through the disjointed cracks of my prismatic heart,

And someday,

Should you be so lucky,

You might know me in a way that so few can or will;

Should you be so lucky?

I hope that one could be so lucky,

Muse,

Who now come, seems so ready to depart,

Afraid of the possibility, possibilities,

Departure delayed, arrival uncertain,

Yet,

You may find that I will endure beseeching you,

Imploring and enticing you,

Silently,

In words like these,

To approach my story,

With a vulnerable mind and a sacred heart,

So that I can show you what I already know,

Just as you do,

These feelings are not the imaginary dalliances

Of delusion,

Rather the infusion of the Ether’s calling.

There are lashes, gashes, cuts and bruises,

Beyond the eyes comprehension,

Those never heal,

There are torments and tortures,

I would wish upon none but me,

Those never heal,

For though the blessing and curse exist in me,

Bipolar dualities,

This Warrior Poet, fights on,
GO BRAGH;

Shattered glass heart and malfunctioning dreams.

That you never see,

Though you may feel, if, perchance,

You had the bravery,

The courage to risk it all for happiness,

As so often I do,

To stand exposed, as I am at this moment,

Though, should you find that power,

You may experience with me,

Should you be so inclined,

Touched by me as I long to touch you,

Reliving daily,

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,

In rapid succession those moments that brought me here,

Now,
Muse,

Tracing my restlessness with rabid delights,

Delights like you,

Muse…

My fingers like Picasso’s brush,

And Van Gogh palette,

My authenticity falsely imprisoned in cubist fragments,

A sick joke played by my psyche as

My veracity self realized,

And abused,

Calls forth the divine intention of a personal gentrification,

You may unearth,

That when I implore you,

I am pained beyond words,

Except when I see your smile,

From those big brown eyes

And your radiant soul,

While revealing to you I am stretched across my canvas,

At your behest,

I am thrust into the eye of the storm,

That life has constantly divulged to me,

Dark clouds, gathering and furious storms

And my Black Dog.

As soon as one episode ends without a laugh track,

Another begins,

Up and down,

Down and up,

A silent movie,

While Charlie Chaplin prays us smile,

I can paint a smile on my face,

Rehearsed and like a costume, hiding,

It does little to conceal my contempt,

For this plight,

I am caught inside the cage where the bird cannot,

Does not,

Will not sing,

Though the beautiful song is so clear,

All I need do is vocalize it,

As I have,

Watching as I do,

Interned and waiting,

For my turn to reveal more,

Muse,

So that you might understand,

Muse,

What makes me tick,

What drives me onward,

What removes the veil,

And the answer Muse, is you,

Thus as a proverbial bride,

In this revelation,

You will carry me across the threshold,

So that I can intimately express to you,

That my scars are the graffiti

Imprinting my story on my body,

My heart, mind and soul,

And in that moment,

You will have me,

Tagged,

As I have already,

Tagged you,

Muse.

SDM

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Her Veil Parts Slightly…

 

I am a servant,

Your servant,

Here to guide you to the happiness you do not yet know,

And are yet to believe possible,

Anxious to ensure that in your service,

I can somehow enlighten you,

Should you choose it?

Should you see inside your own darkness?

Your own hurt,

Past rejection and self deprecation,

To see what is so clear to the rest of us,

Moreover, that endears me so,

Savoring every moment shared,

Especially with my Celtic kit,

In the dead quiet of each South East Asian night,

Shared harmony

Shall you like the tales of old?

My proverbial Rapunzel let down your hair,

Though not of gold,

Letting me be your freedom,

For indisputably this must be, like you,

The beginning of the most beautiful fairy tale.

 

I am a servant,

Your servant,

It is my humble joy to create with you,

Should you allow me,

A smile as Father Time intended,

It is my pleasure to confidently open your eyes,

Your heart and your mind,

Tickling your soul, as I perceive it longs to be,

Pleasing it as I long to be love for love,

In service of you,

Muse.

 

I am a servant,

Your servant,

My bliss created by your elation,

I am a servant,

Yours,

Should you have me?

Seeing what others already have,

What I know you have,

Can you overcome your fears?

Your doubts and reservations?

Will you try?

 

I am a servant,

Your servant,

Come to reveal the power of love,

True love,

The power of you,

The true you,

To make a change,

Today,

With only a thought,

Realizing what sincerely is inside of you,

Rather than this darkness you portend,

Will you choose happiness,

Or maintain the status quo?

 

As your servant,

It is my great delight,

To see that twinkle in your perky brown eyes,

Shining,

Gratefully in my direction,

And through my service,

I heal my wounds,

Release my demons,

The shackles of my past,

Keeping my Black Dog at bay,

While Hemingway relishes that, again my fingers bleed,

I am your servant,

Humble,

Awaiting your command,

Muse,

As the Ether, and my ladies,

Serendipity, Destiny and Fate intend.

Please,

Be not fickle,

I am not too proud to beg,

For what I feel is pure,

In this moment and those to come,

For you!

Shall your veil part slightly?

 

SDM

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