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...make a heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven
I stood last night for longer than in advisable
a good bit longer in fact in the pouring rain
it was a tremendous storm
a torrential downpour, in mere seconds my white linen shirt
painted against my chest unable to hold a single drop of water
more
my body and mind revolted, urging me to rush indoors
to seek cover from this onslaught
my mothers voice
an apparition between my ears
chided me
that I would catch my death
my body struggled
seeking that instinctive normality
which I was barely ignoring
that deepest of drives to find shelter
my soul alone did not struggle
instead it was held rapt
as the water poured over me
the mix of sensations
cool rain blinding my open and upturned eyes
the warmth of that hot summer night
just barely keeping off the chill
I stood there drinking it all in
the confusion
the urges
twisting me this way and that
overriding my subconscious with will
to fill an irrational need standing there, soaked through
that perhaps in some small way it would cleanse my soul
this pounding, penetrating rain
like the victim of rape hoping desperately
that maybe just maybe one could feel clean again
if I just stood there long enough
I remember feeling clean
that precious innocence which could hardly wait to be lost
like that first man and first woman
and like thousands others
stretching back through the eons of time
I reached out my hand with eager temptation
lust and desire
flesh and gold
with such things I did wreak the most unspeakable of crimes
willfully and gladly upon my soul
Once many years ago
I recognized the chief failing of youth
was inexperience
so eager are we
to be taken seriously
to be heard and accepted as people
that nothing will we not give
beg
barter
or steal
for that experience
think back to your youth
reading or hearing about all those places you had never been
all those things you had never done
even those which scared you had some allure
for me it was those
those few that terrified me most
which I desired above all else
those dark corners of the human soul
which everyone seemed so set on keeping from me
from all of this
from all these experiences
my life as the son of man
I am left with one thought
the devils bargaining chip
the lament of my soul
be careful what you wish for
a good bit longer in fact in the pouring rain
it was a tremendous storm
a torrential downpour, in mere seconds my white linen shirt
painted against my chest unable to hold a single drop of water
more
my body and mind revolted, urging me to rush indoors
to seek cover from this onslaught
my mothers voice
an apparition between my ears
chided me
that I would catch my death
my body struggled
seeking that instinctive normality
which I was barely ignoring
that deepest of drives to find shelter
my soul alone did not struggle
instead it was held rapt
as the water poured over me
the mix of sensations
cool rain blinding my open and upturned eyes
the warmth of that hot summer night
just barely keeping off the chill
I stood there drinking it all in
the confusion
the urges
twisting me this way and that
overriding my subconscious with will
to fill an irrational need standing there, soaked through
that perhaps in some small way it would cleanse my soul
this pounding, penetrating rain
like the victim of rape hoping desperately
that maybe just maybe one could feel clean again
if I just stood there long enough
I remember feeling clean
that precious innocence which could hardly wait to be lost
like that first man and first woman
and like thousands others
stretching back through the eons of time
I reached out my hand with eager temptation
lust and desire
flesh and gold
with such things I did wreak the most unspeakable of crimes
willfully and gladly upon my soul
Once many years ago
I recognized the chief failing of youth
was inexperience
so eager are we
to be taken seriously
to be heard and accepted as people
that nothing will we not give
beg
barter
or steal
for that experience
think back to your youth
reading or hearing about all those places you had never been
all those things you had never done
even those which scared you had some allure
for me it was those
those few that terrified me most
which I desired above all else
those dark corners of the human soul
which everyone seemed so set on keeping from me
from all of this
from all these experiences
my life as the son of man
I am left with one thought
the devils bargaining chip
the lament of my soul
be careful what you wish for
no subject
those few that terrified me most
which I desired above all else
those dark corners of the human soul
which everyone seemed so set on keeping from me
beautiful.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.