the madness and the memories

How disappointed would you be to find out that the world you think is real is nothing more than the twilight left behind from a magical experiment gone wrong... and you are, for the time being, trapped in the limbo between the dream and the consciousness of a sometimes lonely poet... who only wanted to slip back in time for a moment... and just a moment... a long time ago... to say the words that should have been said... to  look into her eyes for just a little bit longer... to find a glow of eternity and to find the truth of love in that last kiss... that ended too soon...

I am sorry for the inconvenience the hunger of my soul may be putting you through - but in my defense, I am no master wizard... nor where the men that  thought could help me find my way back to that girl... that left me when I was just beginning to come to life... and those wayward spirits... they play with ones emotions when it comes to negotiating their bargains... for they too wish to slip into the physical realm for reasons only they would understand... a bunch of jokers they are and really worthless in the affairs of love... if it is love that I was trying to go back and find... maybe not... she did not love me... but there were moments - in between the madness and the cries... when the city darkened and the voices out side the window faded away to where ever the whispered lies of unfaithful lovers disappear to... there were those moments when she was in my arms and I sang her songs I wrote for another woman... and the light came in through the cracks in the window that cast shadows on the walls and floor like light reflecting from a lake in the night... and she would let out her lazy moan and needed me to carry her to bed... and lay her down like a child... that moment... when I thought she would drift off to sleep... and I would try to rise from the bed with out disturbing her... when she would grab my arm and open her eyes and ask me if I loved her... and I would - with out hesitation lean in closer to her and say - "who else would you imagine that I could love..."

and her lip would curl just a bit in the corners and her whisper would tremble in a subtle way  - the way some notes sound out of place in your favorite song - but only you can notice it and can actually appreciate the awkward subtleties of a masterpiece... that my friends... and passersby... was the moment I was trying to get back to... when the hopes and dreams of other wandering fools clashed with mine and we ended up drifting in this chaos... chasing after the loves we lost and the moments that slipped away - that had they played out differently... my friends... you would have never come to know this wandering fool of a man and his ramblings...

When I tell the story of the one that got away - it is not you... nor are you the one for whom I spilled my blood for on the alter of Qamal... for one more moment in time with the one that slipped away to some other dream realm with what was left of my heart... and the scribbles I call poetry that suffocated my soul... and the words of the man I wanted to be for you...