PORTRAIT OF MAN'S DESIRE

 

 

As I rest alone, in phase, less tall in my chair, my mind tapers off

I have wishes, a purpose - I have wants that years fetch away

As I sit here in this chair, I see these greeds quite clear

Sights that brush so near; so many, in fact, are quite exact

And yet, there are further cryptic things

Things that come half blurred

That are far more abstract

 

Will I wear a restful mask?

Disguise my craving eyes?

Pretend I am above what the hand of age implies?

Will I walk a passive path that charts an untrue sky?

That accepts an artless sin?

Or will I cut through thick and thin

And embrace my aging skin?

These questions, they drain me, they haunt me, they test me

 They forever hunt within

 

And yet,

As I sit here in this chair, casting down these words, seeking wrong and right,

     it all comes to light

Strength within myself lacks the proper might

For in spite of all I've said; I have, and will, fail the test above

I know this now, because, in truth, I am far too much in love

 

My wife, my family, my dearest friends and their two kids

Fortunes - that a fearless heart forbids

Such fondness; it frames this phobic verse - Such fondness, has found its fated curse

Its treasure, its blessing, its bliss that bleeds my courage dry

 Such love, as this, leaves only one reply

I am weak

Full of fear

And I never want to die