Lost in all but my ancient name.

SS850442 (2)

*from draftbox

No red flag blowing in a breeze of knowledge

at half mast as I jump from the cliff edge into the

jagged pool of broken glass. Hindsight is such a

glorious possession, we hold it captive deep within

our minds until long after the pain has healed

and we are clear from obstruction,

only then can we declare a deeper knowledge.

Young, the essence of Peter Pan still swarming in

my blood I stood upon the glass verge and plunged

headfirst into the crowd of faceless clones.

How I longed to be normal, to know a love

that transcended time and held me safely

within its hands caressing every contour of my soul.

Passion, the dying man’s feast at the devil’s table,

Satan has it set for two, never did he plan to invite you.

A baron temptress darkness seeped into

the hollow spaces of my spirit,

the moon no longer spilled crystal dust

across my naked skin, Helios hung is head

in shame as I was lost in all but my ancient name.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

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