Lost Art

It's not like I was some magical potion that was irresistible to all who tried.
But she was the only one who didn't seem to fall under my spell.
I suppose that's what made her all the more attractive.
She wasn't stunning or strong, but delicately nuanced.
A rouge flavor that escapes palatal description, but once tasted becomes all that one wants.
But it becomes a man to differentiate among a want, a need, and perhaps an obsession.
The former two are healthy, and the latter frightening.

I don't even really think on her anymore now.
As I look back I realize I only do so to understand a pattern.
I thought I had an art perfected to the hilt,
But she maintained a demeanor that made each brush stroke like painting on sand.
Not a sand that is static on paper, but a shifting dune that enveloped me, swallowing my art forever.
It was the dethroning of a system.
But 'why?' is the question that makes it all worthwhile.
An enigma that escapes me, just as she did.

Damn Beautiful

Damn beautiful!
The rain falling so sublime
Idle chatter of demigods
Soft blanket and quiet repose
Glimmer of street lights
Reflecting on asphalt puddles
Serenely chaotic
Sensuous lullaby
Feel of comfortable omniscience
Regurgitated silence
King of man
Bane of nature
Fulfilling my existence at rest
Contemplating unbeknownst
Changing the world
Swiftly, deftly, now.

The Idiot Myself

For months I toiled unnoticed but lauded.

My pen was mighty and my ethic apparent,

But all the while I my good friend defrauded, 

And the reality of my morality transparent.

Day came and day went on the train I would sit, 

Kneading through my thoughts unrepentant a twit.

The tasks came and went as a show starts and ends, 

My will not His, too afraid to make amends.

I had broken a bond forged in love and trust,

For nothing more than momentary lust.

My mind inward said, "Leave it for another day,

The morrow soon cometh and it fades away."

The truth was it dug a whole in my heart, 

Not tugging the strings but shredding the soul, 

The integral man, made a watery tart, 

Crumbling like a bridge with an unpaid toll.

Justice sought me, and I left it buried, 

Along with myself and my life I once felt,

But He came to collect, my chains he carried, 

To bring me to terms in hell to melt.

Out with the lies, the deceit and the pain, 

I had nothing left but tatters and reflection.

I came clean with my indencency in a way so sane, 

My words seemed hollow and full of defection.

I expected no relief, nor exoneration.

I played the cards given me with no expectation.

My crime forgiven by him I forsook, 

But forgiveness of myself for that I still look.