I
into the abysmal night
a voice cries out,
piercing the eternal ebony of my room.
the Light is turned on,
burning, peeling, stripping away my skin
and then is gone; the wail departs with it.
i am alone once more; yet,
i feel i am fostering myself as faust.
II
an amber sun beats down
on the old man's wide brimmed hat.
he sits,
hunched over in his chair
of gold. the tempest around him
screams at the forgotten.
the rotten apple falls from his hand
onto the rust;
the man soon joins his fruit,
but no one hears him fall.
III
there is not enough room
in this life
for both a man and his dreams.
IIII
i am not alone.
i . . .
i am.
i am not.
i am not alone.
trapped in the black city
or free on the brown farm,
on the way from the blue lecture hall
to the white classroom,
i am not alone.
in the green forest of dead trees,
stranded in the grey, barren wasteland,
from one shadowy step to the other,
my reason will not leave me be.
V
the discerning of my heart
has forsaken me once more.
i no longer desire the ten talents -
must i also accept the five?
my back is broken, stooping
for water which i can never attain;
long after my stomache has eaten itself,
the grapes still elude my grasp.
shake me until i am stable.
feed me until all i hunger for is You.
destroy my body until i am whole.
empty my mind until i am wise.
VI
i have been given the power
to change:
drenched with ability, yet
drizzled with will.
i have seen the razing
of change:
shown the close,
augered the end, so
i have traded evil
for change:
forced the demon to consume my wrath,
commanded the scourge of the ages to depart.
VII
mephistopheles dines with me
but then is gone. i am alone once more,
burning, peeling, stripping away my skin.
the Light is turned on,
piercing the eternal ebony of my room.
my voice will cry out -
perhaps into the abysmal night.
Your comments are greatly appreciated. nandor@wellington.org