Pathos Apropos

Looking far from home for what

I cannot have but I have not

And have you this thing I seek

Is it you who made me weak?

 

We row upon these waves of hope

Through the darkness blind we grope

Our bow upon rocks of reality

This darkness fends off our clarity.

 

A simple tune whistled apropos

I cannot hear for all of Pathos

No words or tune all seraphic

But cacophony so erratic.

 

Oh how all I want is silence sweet

Instead chaos abruptly meet

My all my now my everything

There cannot be an inbetween.

 

Humbly fondle candlesticks

To light with matches waxy wicks

To shed the light upon our forms

Fire tongues lick our faces warm.

 

Both are spent, we lie almost

Still enough to mistake our ghost

Is returned to haunt us what a fear!

Accept this presence welcomed here.

 

No shadows from the candle’s light

No tunes distracting quiet night

Just both of us, muses to lust

Certainly pure, able and just.

 

©Kris Blackburn 19/09/12

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