Fragments of an unusual dream from last night.
A strange conversation between two lost souls, it seems.
It makes an interesting monologue, though.
Oh, the joys of visiting, Lucidity City!
Salute.
Title:
The Love Gambler
(A lone voice whispers)
Did you once truly love me
Like I loved you
For I need to know
If we were once
A
We
Or is it still just another darkly lit daydream
Illuminated by shadow birthing white candles
I habitually cling to
In my self-imposed darkness
One where we find true happiness and togetherness
Buy a house
Have four children and sit happy in contentment
Did I claim a part of your once unapproachable soul
As you once preached
A place
Where now
No one
No longer knows
For it's beyond their mortal reach
When on that sad but memorable day
In Los Angeles
You quietly told me
Standing by The Four Ladies of Hollywood
To go
Was I just a childish
foolish dream to carry you
On a crimson stretcher of unrequited love
To safety
Beyond some deep emotional pain
You were going through
Am I now just discarded
Like a drained paper Costa coffee cup
Since you said your unbearable goodbyes
When you embraced
On that fateful day
Before we went to Los Angeles
All your family and kin
Sweet backstabbing lies
Will I rise up to face any upcoming storms
Within these winds of change
I feel like soft and sharp feathers on my skin
As it blows over, my prayers of positive new horizons
Watching me standing
Like Ulysses
Here at the beginning of the world's many awakening United Nations
Or will I fall like one of The Watchers
Headfirst into the blood-red snow of self-flagellation
But as I pause and look back at my once thought complete life
Like the doomed wife of Lot in The Book of Genesis
And meditate over its sad unique highways and unrequited byways
I hope
Deep down
They are replenished with self-growth
With blessings from a man who once died on the cross
On a hill with others
in Golgotha
With a roll of these lucky soul-transforming
Black and white dice
Called Transmigration
I now toss
To avoid the musky scent and dark gifts of Self Damnation
Which could turn me like Lot's wife
Into a pillar of salt
Brought from Hell's mythical vaults
To me
By a black flying albatross
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
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