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
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