Symbol
Feb 02 '04 (Updated Mar 07 '04)
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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Abraxmed
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Member: Abraxmed
Location: Virginia Beach, VA
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