I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

Home | A Pleonexic Urge | The Root Of Motion | When The Candles Are Out | Love Songs To The Dead | Titans And Turncoats | This Lovers' Life We Lead | Prayers To A Ghost | Your Opening Eyes Nigh | The Enterprise Of The New Routine | Orphans And Demagogues | Nocturnal Emissions | The Fortune Of Failure | Transcension Beneath The Bitter Sun | Watching The Furnace Fire | Adventures Of The Crimson Enigma | Memoirs Of A Mercenary | My True History | I Never Knew Him | Midnight Rambling | From The Silence


The atom of love alive in my being’s
Been split to show your name etched on a heart
Adrift upon an oceanic guilt
Though never out of range of love’s long reach.
This love that heals is stronger than which harms,
All old love dies and by this death becalms
The sea on which the listing ship was wrecked.

By path and stream or allegoric scene
I never wish to reach the end of you;
Not sigh the shutting of a lovers’ tomb
Nor pick the stitched circumference that divides
Our country from the paracosmic world.
His mischief-making minutes keep their pace,
But Time is a liar, there’s proof in your face.

Until the stars that cause once more collapse
And we are wayward orbits set apart,
A beacon in a barren paradise
Will beckon a disciple to your shrine
Whose altar stands despite the quaking storm.
Because my due is some thing more severe
I praise the mercy in my idol’s eye.

Should I such care before death’s knell disown
Then they shall write my life that call me fool.
I have no wish by such strokes to be drawn,
Nor quartered by my own hand, unlike those
Desirers who dilute their wretched dreams
For answers to a question not yet begged.
No miracle was ever dressed in death.

This sleepless night has trapped me in a void
Too great to fit my lonely name. I crave
The revelation of your touch to raze
The high wall hinged around my failing frame
And dust a web of guilt from tears torn from
Your closing eye that halts my marching years
Limping down the thoroughfare of our days.

‘If life is all there is then bring me death’ -
A dusty phrase I’d taken for my creed
That questions first the act and then the need.
Its rhetoric has cornered me, and if
In your eye I’m still fettered by my past,
Then I shall take my oath to change, and as
A penance I will sum the shifting sands.