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Dead, Dying and the Dreamer
Desire offered me a Joyful Blindness
new each time from the Caldron
such that I succumbed each time
moved thereby
to cheat Death himself
accepting thereby the double
conundrum
that a too intense Desire
can kill the Dream it inspires
and sometimes too, kill the Dreamer
condemning him or her perhaps
to surfing the tides of blowback
the Damocles Pillars of Blame and Time,
seeing Fate toss dice
with his life
in the back room
where secrets hold
sway
and lie down
with Soothing Regrets
who utters
"It's not your fault."
Where pressures are
presented;
where I get to
wed my Desire
where I get to
go away
into Indeterminate Time
and come back
wondering where I have been
and guilty bred I
punish those ugly muses
which time and time again
take me right back
to square one
where next time I do it all over again;
Desire's slave or consort
undetermined
yet I am
lashed to the mast
of that runaway ship
adrift with the tides
destination unknown, uncertainty
until the Final One
which is easily foreseen
in that scene
where the Reaper laughs
saying
"In the end all come to me
some crying, some denying
some defiant
some bitter draught drinkers
of their erstwhile lives
but all succumb
to my dark web at end;
yet in this
none I resent more
than types like you, " he said
"who come plumped up smiling
sated from Life's Desires.
irritating me the more than the others
because those like you enjoyed their lives
despite my entreaties
that they should not.
Nay they wed their desires
fulfilled them
willingly paying the price
in Despairs coin
because you see my friend
the Dreamers
cheat me
Death
even after they are dead.
A secret well known
but seldom recognized;
if you kill the dream,
you, too, have killed the dreamer
and their death my friend
is final;
but in those like you
those with the capacity for rampaging Desire
preceding the dream
cheat me Death
and you are my mortal enemy.
Better you humans not understand
that the secret is
better to over-sip
Desire
than not to desire at all
than not
to Dream at all.
The Desireless
are the ones I crave
because they come to me already dead.
I like the one's who have spent
their lives self-denied
because they become
for me my dead and docile
and are easily plied
Into my Marching Lines
of the Well-Disciplined
and
truly
Dead Now and Gone.
The Dreamers
alas,
I've learned
cheat me Death
because their Dream lives on
and on.
poem
by
Lonnie Hicks
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