Two Truths

Two truths
in which do I believe

the one
my heart
tells me

or

the one
my eyes see?

I have made a sacred pilgrimage
around your barren shores
and I have opened many doors
and still no soul call echoes back

In a dark and musty basement
long forgotton bottles of a vintage rara
are gathering dust
where a hopeless moth
beats her wings
against the solitary shaft
of a beam of light
scattering her golden wing dust below
in a slow dance of self immolation

The poison cannot be sucked from this wound
my jaw is slack
and words fall
like rain
upon the incoherent compost
of surrender and passion

I throw myself into my work
just to work it out of my system
and though my pinions have been hidden from me for a time
This avis rara can no longer beat these wet wings
against the bars of your cagey indifference

Two truths
in which do I believe

the one
my heart
tells me

or

the one
my eyes see?

(c) 2011