I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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The Rhythm Of Creation

The wasted will, the fear and expectation
Burning like a deadly vision before my shattered eyes
By the silence of the ashes
I hear a voice beckoning from beyond
Penetrating the previously unyielding darkness
Without hesitation I respond
Opening my arms to receive
But a ghost of an embrace
And a crossroads leading to various dungeons
Adventures in the extremity of memory
The faces of the detainees are visible in their vaults
All me
Groping, in dismay, at inadequacy
Begging for freedom from the solitude
From the contradiction of liberty in which they are imprisoned
I remember it well
Though I wasn't always alone
No, there was but one who knew me
Her portrait hangs eternally in the Gallery of the Heart
She tore down the walls of the citadel
Stormed the fortress
And breached my defences
I was under her aegis then
The watching, the wondering, the looking, the loving
They never ceased
A longing, suddenly realised by the passing of time
Memories of the one careless moment
Memories of the nights that never end
The captives in their cells still chasing the dawn
And only me, free from the jungle of inhibition
I see my chance
Opportunity and promise only courted in dreams
And reserved for champions
Time loves a hero and mine has come
Fusing these remnants of emotion, these scraps of sense
Into a surreal sanity
I head for the light
The new dawn
There, at the gate, my angel
The Heavens open and in the exhibition of reality we kiss
I taste the smile on her lips and we dance to eternity
The music of the spheres
The rhythm of creation