The twilight is gray.......

As the twilight turns a sour gray
The tears of a yesterday
The winds of dismay and she walks away
But then the rustle of the wind bids me wait

And as I turn around, she is standing right there
She smiling, her arms spread out wide
For in her eyes are the fires of a thousand skies
She has returned with a gracious warmth

Take me my sweet so that I may rest
For the soul is now tired
And rest is unforgiving, for she sheds not a tear and her bosom's cold
For the tears are now dry and end is near

She loved me all her life
And when I went to her, all I found is doubt and hurt
To no end, I begged to her, for fear is a game of the mind at play
And jealousy a pointless end to the day

I have but a feeling of deep regret
That I could not make her see, the truth, the depth
For I am a meagre traveller, a heart ancient in time
But she doesn’t see that, I am a mere rhyme

I am a timeless warrior, whose mind goes astray
But she sees that not, for her I am away
Pulchritude is an illusion
And love is a dream, of listless forbearance and nothing to achieve

For I am but a warrior, but she sees that not
Love is a dream, a reality but bought, a dream that beckons
But a mirage it is, for I am but a warrior she sees not
She loves me she says, but then why can't she see
For emotions are but a tool
And a fire is within me, the emotions a hammer, to render forth a knife of words
For I am but a warrior, with a heart of stone

Requiem

And then there are roses in violent red
And the cats seething in fury
And there is the sudden tenderness
Starting the violence anew

And there are the throes of passion
By inebriation awakened, by inebriation undone
And then there is a guilt and pangs of distress
Of hidden feelings that have become

Of feelings that never were
And are a lonesome tenderness anyways now
For there feelings ill begotten
They're stolen now, but they're home

And then there is a tender sadness
For the feelings were ill begotten
But they were feelings that were genuine
And a tenderness that was hurt

For whatever the feelings may have been
They were never our own
They belonged to a couple of strangers
Inebriated to the core

High on the ambience and the sensitivities
Of a gentle nudge and winsome smile
For they were the feelings of a stranger
And now are just a tender sadness.

- 19 November 2005 0559 hrs