Of all the lands my soul and heart travails,
of all the harsh and dark realization I face,
you are my quandary still,
your world so foreign, your wants so instilled,
you cannot bend with the breeze.
And often I try to find the love
that you so artfully impart, so actively pursue,
yet underlying all your deeds an emptiness I see,
a strange and beguiling veiled truth to be
all you imagined in your pretence.
Sadness pervades this heart, for perhaps you know not
this ploy, this misguided game you follow,
when truly what truth exists in this dismay,
this someone you are not but play,
to engender this old heart to stay.
But when the scope of your power is tested,
you suddenly break, and rage becomes your meter,
and I attest the beast that lives within cannot win but harm,
in the breaking of your will, my profound alarm,
that tells me there is no love at all.
How invested I was to stay as I did,
when blinded to the signals plain,
and love just gave me a silent forgiveness,
and your deceit and plans, overlooked but witnessed,
as I buried truth so deep I could not breath.
And in the end I was to blame,
for all the lies that I accepted, all the love that I attested,
in thinking love would cleanse us all,
resurrect a heart that was bruised and stalled,
and be true to this my needing soul.
Tony DeLorger © 2016