Monday, April 9, 2012

Present Day

Blasting the fair words that come forth from your
Fair semblance seems to do me no good; none
Who seek remembrance of old could have one
Happy thought in their heart. For they are torn
That do seek their hopes in the past's failing light,
And forget the love of the future's ray's.
Yet I curse you still who seek to impose upon
My person the works from yonder star, fawn
Upon the same said light given by it;
What are my joys to yours if we be two,
Other than two self images made true
In the light of our hopes and dreams. Within
My heart is the fading past, and your sin
Is to hold onto future past all hope.

                                                                   Present Day, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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