Of Beads and an Absent Love Life


before the painted Texas sky folds into dusk
it sprawls over vast steep hillsides flames dancing
one last show of majesty today, one last dance

clasped in my hands is a string of beads of exquisite beauty
prayers dreams and the soft morning light of things hoped for
in pastels of innocence, and darker deeper shades of experience

the sky still in a fierce and frenetic dance
the sun touches my small trinket with flashes of its lovliness
and my thoughts are stilled blinded silenced for the moment

i cannot fathom my future with solitary secret wishes
only in the common uncommonly found medium of desire for happiness
for the pieces to fit and every one to be used rightly

perfection and a happy ending, a happy home
yet so few homes are happy and so few people fulfilled
painting their own beads, fastening halfhearted dream-necklaces round their necks

they walk around discontented waiting for the spell to be broken
or else they cease to dream at all glancing backward
at generations before them who never found their hearts' desires either

why should i believe that will not be me
walking the fine tightrope line above their resignation
ready at any moment to slip and fall to settling for life isn't perfect?

because their timed plans didn't work for them that's why and
throwing the weighty jewelry to the blazing horizon, i am free
my bare wrists neck hands are pale and unadorned now

pure and humble enough for a wedding ring.

..back..