Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Phoenix Rising [Archive: Spring 1999]

your voice is filled with static
static hear and static there
your speech is always muddled
the truth is filled with lies

as I lie, dead quiet in my bed
I wonder where you are
where you and your love dove are
but I cringe when the image comes

somehow sleep claims my night
conquering your image by zero sum
but you and the dawn come hand in hand
and the safety of night is gone

your love was always a mystery
where oh where would it show up next
never in my hand, though it seemed
at times, within my grasp

so when I see her with your heart
I hope she treats it gently, for
yours is a dove of morning, not
like mine of mourning.

the day goes on, time
seldom one for waiting
the years past quickly, though
forthcoming hours seem longer.

the time of us is over,
the story has found an end,
but with its end, the phoenix
rises from its grave again.

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