poem for Fisher; Pennsylvania
I can tell you
what i believe is right
i can tell you
what you do is wrong
i can give you
all my judging opinions
in poem, prose or song .
*
but a single
act of valure
in an unscripted
unreal day
shocks the soul
with a heroic standard
my finite words
could never say
. . for Marian S fisher
(heroic choices)
Pennsylvania
UNCONCEIVED (poem)
It is constant…this decay, this entropy.
I sit in quiet solitude, awaiting some
enigmatic moment when I am suddenly,
violently thrust back into action.
Perhaps I delude myself, it may be
that what I perceive as languor, is
actualization of some dormant force within.
I break into a run, my heart racing
uncertainly, monkey brain beside itself with
fear…stopping suddenly, taking into
view what I have run from — darkness.
The horrifying realization that my run has
accomplished nil…the darkness persists.
Am I deranged? Is there something wonderful
and eternal here that is beyond my reckoning?
Am I between realms; and in that ethereal
plane am I unable to come to fruition?
Am I really but a dream of myself?
Worlds turn in upon themselves that I might see…
and I observe that it is all of my quiet imagining.
We are none of us actually here.
We are, I observe, the product of dreams –
the astral imagining of some deity, some force
hitherto unconceived.
-D.C. Massey
July 22, 2008 at 9:49 pm