You were a life I dreamed;
a story told of other’s lives –
not known to me and mine.
Shimmering laughter that echoed
in gardens green and blooming.
A warmth that threw light
into my shadowed soul –
My Redemption –
in this sanguine veil.
Your mercury scarred scion
offers your eyes to pull me from
dark madness into silver misted memory
of light and a love that was never mine.
Flat round stones – sized just so
fit neatly into the index finger’s curl.
Smooth catapult from the shoulder
the elbow, the wrist, the hand, the finger.
Index extension imparts the final thrust.
The rest is asymptotic declination.
The machine’s work is complete.
It is all that we have.
We have entertained the desire.
We have set the goal.
We have chosen the stone.
We have perceived the water’s plane.
We have estimated trajectory and speed.
We have given the machine to it’s work.
Dominion over the stone is forfeit
before the stone leaves finger’s curl.
Within the metamorphosis of action
the ability to even hold the stone is lost.
At some moment between desire and deed
Command cedes to consequence.
Intent surrenders to hope.
November 10, 2005