My heart is cold, my words are curt. My eyes
callously conceal the warmth trapped inside.
Do I care? Don’t I? The truth and the lies
are mixed with love, hate, compassion and pride.
A gentle touch is longed for, yet abhorred.
To give openly, freely is unknown
for this soul’s prince lies in a chamber doored
with fear, bound with pain, fettered, lies uncrowned.
What key can parody Pandora’s box,
prying open this heart to survey all
peril creep past eternally lost locks
to fetter my poet’s soul for a thrall?
Yet unless the gift is opened, no hope
can enter either. Who will risk such gifts:
hope, fear, beauty, malice, toil? Who will grope
in the dark to see fear’s weights, by love, lift?
Someday, someday the bonds will be broken.
My heart will be unshackled, I believe,
my soul freed to love, and my love spoken
will bind again in a more sublime weave.
The greatest joys are found in tragedies.
The most tranquil living waters spin near
strong currents; harbors lie in eddies.
Unsurpassed love must root in conquered fear.
Who shall plant that seed, fight along side
me to make sure it grows and my fears wane?
Together we can triumph: when allied,
bound in love as one, can conquer two’s pain.
