THE TRAP
Of memory and hope
I made my rope
and swung
not knowing its length
or how much strength
there hung.
Backward and forward
past into future
I climbed
higher and higher
despair and desire
combined.
Farther and farther
no present to bother
my flight
above now and here
beyond loss and fear
upright.
Ah, this was the way
to trap time and stay
its dread
yes, twisted inside
then knotted and tied
instead!
For being was this
both height and abyss
outflung
the head free of reason
the heart without season
full sprung.
Not creeping by squirm
an inch measured worm
begrimed
with darkening age
to a burnt out rage
consigned.
But swept on an ocean
of tides set in motion
by light
in a brilliance of air
with clear eyes aware
of sight.
Until the strands
between my hands
were red
and I came to a stop
to let time drop
down dead.