Of Agony And Hope

Wild Horses

I'm in complete need for
A passionate conversation about anything.
Let's talk about space, or colors,
Or books and movies,
Or you,
Or me,
and my dreams.
Or deep abstracts that magically make the world
Sound in order and for a purpose;
Like world peace.

I have no peace of mind.
It's like another world inside,
Part of it is real,
And it's painful.
Part of it I conceal,
Because it's painful.

Last night I had a dream.
It was about a girl.
She was taming wild horses at her barn.
When she saw me she smiled,
And the fields sparkled green.
But then she screamed
So loud that the crows up the hill flew away, terrified.
And her mother came out of the house with an axe.
"Relax", I told myself.
But she ran after me, aiming to kill.
And so, away I ran;
And they hugged.
But the horses couldn't take the scream.
They died, all.
And I lived -not whole.

And when I woke up everything was silent.
My dog was asleep,
And my owl was standing still,
Staring at me.
Her eyes shone in my dark room
Like a ray of fate.
And my bed felt warm
Until the window broke open
By the cold wind and rain.
And my eyes turned wet,
For all of a sudden the lights were lit.
And my friends all came in.
"Happy birthday", they cheered and then
I saw the candle pinned on the cake.
1, it was, i'm one year old...
In my hand there was a pacifier I hold.
I may have lost track of time...
How come it felt so long to me!
Mom held me up and cheered with them.
It felt so good and I began to grin,
but I slipped off her hands, and fell on my head
And I blacked out again.

When I woke up I was a fine young man.
Afraid of heights, but won't show it;
Full of life, but won't count on it.
I met a man that I called father.
We weren't alike, but he was cool.
He asked me what i'd rather,
Break my heart, or lose my soul.
But little did he know that I already did both.
As did he, what are the odds!

And when I blinked, I was him;
Asking me if I would rather
Break my heart, or lose my soul.
And I knew that he wouldn't answer,
Because neither would I, what are the odds!

And my son grew up scarred and troubled.
Yet fought it well and became a poet.
But words weren't so easy to find.
So, he travelled away to write in peace.
He met a girl and fell in love.
To write her poems, he wouldn't cease.
And no one has ever read his poetry
Except for her, before she screams
And kills all those beautiful wild horses,
Along with his wholeness.