Symbol Feb 02 '04 (Updated Mar 07 '04)    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet The Bottom Line Blah, another poem She has become a symbol, no longer is she a real person. A painting on the ceiling of a cathedral; the home of a god I no longer worship. Lost my religion, really it lost me; I have no faith. I am a prophet with whom the messenger has turned her back. When having been so close to a truth how do you look for another? When I come down from my delusions I remember another truth, I wasn't happy. Perhaps I could have been, but the glow of tranquility was lost on me. It is easy to forget the details. Beautiful, imperfect and all the more wonderful for it. I don't long to be with her, yet I dream of her, of being lost in her love; in the warmth of her faith in me. A faith I destroyed. Missing her out of habit has lost its novelty. Yet, when I dive into others, when I come up for air her visage is there to greet me. If I had the will to exorcise her I might. It would mean losing myself, for she gave me the ability to love, forgetting her would be forgetting truth.

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