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You are the ONE you're looking for!
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A
poem written by my soul mate...
The Wrunged Man
I am ready for sleep in this rare deep black hour
I
am ready but she calls out… my white tower.
So
I tap the one source for the power to wield.
I
ask for the words that shall steal a heal.
I
have already seen the story of Christ, was there at first
view.
I
heard all the angels singing for what would soon be brand
new.
I
wandered the lands of the great Babylonian king
And
wept when the serpent first learned how to sing.
I
know of dreamers and task masters and the promises of the
morn
I
have already heard the distant call of Arch angel
Gabriel’s horn.
The
battle’s unfolding, warriors in many disguises
Only
lifting up rocks for more golden surprises.
There
have been kings and fools and magicians on this stage.
Jesters,
poets and temptresses that role through the age.
There
have been soldiers and mystics and masters with out of
sight treats
And
an encyclopedia of myth born creatures schooled in
unfathomable feats.
Moon
Maidens and black widow witches each too have their
clones.
I
may not know their full story but they all end in bones.
Yes
each new illustrious evolution weaves in the mix.
Some
new distant glimmering to enlighten life’s fix.
I
have felt the free reign of nothing holding me down
And
came back to find rich treasures littering the ground.
The
gift is this life, the moment is now.
God
is silver spoon, wooden fork and good old brown cow.
That
which you yearn for is an eternal quest, time but a blink.
If
you stand far too high even the clouds seem to sink.
It
is just a play, choose your own role be it guy or be it
gal.
What
I know is there has never before been an AL.
I
like what I’ve seen, that I hard struggle my fight.
I
like that few could stand up to such plight.
I
am free will; I am love and a thread of black hate.
I
am given the right to choose my own fate.
Yes
it hurts and it drags and it seems timely drudge
But
looking for short cuts seems to summon the judge.
If
no outcome is willed no outcome is built
With
no commitment to bear what flowers will wilt.
I
am mercy and lust and finest wrought rage.
I
am the will of the ancients that bends the bars of this
cage.
I
like the contradictions, hypocrisies and puzzle paradoxes
A
counter balance to keep great things from small boxes.
I
like not knowing what will happen by noon.
I
like when my heart gets turned by the moon.
I
am pure fire thrice over and maybe a tad more there than
here.
A
wild card in a deck of absolutes that isn’t always
clear.
I
may be a Gollum or an Aragorn King.
Perhaps
simply a steadfast Sam who has already passed back the
ring.
But
these are told tales some elements we share.
Yet
unwritten remain rich chapters to dare.
If
you are waiting for divine guidance from realms above.
You
will miss all the laughter you’ve been dreaming of.
You
are all that you haply free forged of low beast and high
god.
Its
both chaos and order that are plainly even and odd.
I
feel your confusion as new choices prevail,
Afraid
of rusty anchors, hard winds but no sails.
But
the moon turns and the tides are new stirred.
But
in the face of long struggle comes the shape of the cure.
Couldn’t
a journey to somewhere begin at the dawn
Knowing
the universe will catch us, or our wits be the brawn.
We
are free spirits being fed man’s ghostly folk stories.
Addicted
to old myths as we lose our own glories.
Hurry
away to your wondrous tomorrow
Hurry
away from the hardship and sorrow
My
heart and my soul may take a strange shape in your head.
Respect
has long fallen as you already figure me dead.
So
my dreams are mist that have touched not a soul
My
dreams are no gift but an empty black hole
No
evidence of my passing as I am painted a fool
Find
you no proof of a soul that is cooler than cool.
You
were always a light shower, with storm and pizzazz
Trust
me by now you are still all that jazz.
We
were horizon’s mating of a universe to come,
But
the virtue of patience comes quickly undone.
So
Dreams are born from the craft Alchemy
An
insane fate-filled choice with no written guaranty
I
have all the keys and you all the locks.
Do
we open the heavens or scatter the flocks.
Tide
to shore is but a very old war of two armies in silent
violent reunion.
Man paints in
the armor and swords and judges the winds of rushing hate,
but it is merely a single wave accompanied by the sound of
sighing snake as fire meets wood.
poem above by my Love
- Alan J. Martin, Jr.
And
I answer him...
Your black tower calls
in my brightest hour
Pleading out to keep my OWN power
Whispering come back, by illusionary love be subdued
But I know in that place I will not be renewed
So I raise my shield and stand in what's real
Protecting myself from all that you feel
Raw emotion that churns your mind like a wheel
As it plots how to keep my heart it would steal
I too there wept, at the glory of He,
And sang with the angels to set Him free,
As hung He there dying on that cross,
For the sins of the world, as we cried for our loss
I have kept slaves in bondage, as Queen of the Nile
Was there at the start, to see Adam smile
Tasted the fruit that the serpent did offer
And carried the weight of blame, for why all men suffer
Yes my love, the Quest is eternal,
And to it were bound, the urge calls supernal
The moment is now, there is no other
My sweet, sweet man, my dear lifetime lover,
Indeed God is all, oh yes God is One
Yet in so many sights, He still seems undone
So how can I rest, go off to star in some play
When so many sisters and brothers cry on this day
How can I lay my sword on the ground
Walk away from the fight, when in my heart its been
found
The cause that rings true, and in my soul cries
The one that brings tears of joy to my eyes
The time is now, the time for might
To stand up and shout, this is what's right
To love one another, not to each make our own mark
For that path is separate, alone in the dark
It is in truth
This song I must follow
My once in a lifetime love
For all else is hollow
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