Copyright May 2002, By Ian Wisekal

To be arisen at the thought of one
after silent dreams and aches ferment to conscious want;
want that dizzy, inebriated, spills over into life;
life that without desire is incomplete.
One stands seldom alone - unapproachable
a mustang is safe within the pack.
Sweet, cursèd, transitory glances, returned with pearls, but
pearls formed with torturous ambiguity.
One stands alone waiting
waiting for what could be magic
waiting
waiting for what could be nothing.
Nothing it is - minutes pass, some is said; all trivia
One avoids what we know is relevant
what we know is true.
One leaves in bittersweet haste
leaving so much unspoken;
words full in my mouth like cotton
remain there and choke me
choke the desire from my body
leave me numbly flailing
in a sea of doubt; confusion.
To be rescued?
Chapters yet unwritten
decide our fate.