2/10/00

Their world,
Shining brightly,
Colors vivid and sharp
A moment’s glance offered to me
At a heavy, heavy price

Their world,
A picture,
A studio reproduction
Set in a frame of silver and gold
On display in the window of my mind

Their world,
A soft, tangible desire
A lofty dream
A dream lived, once
For such a short, sweet time

My world
A paradox, a converse
Endless time spent wishing
To live that warm, fragrant dream again -
To feel the magic

Yet as much time, in my world,
Is spent retaining valor,
Protecting honor.
Is this wandering, this independence,
As honorable as I see?

The fantasy life
That is their world –
Two poles, incredibly opposite
Damp darkness and candylike brightness
Could I ever be in that place?

At times, I dream of that.
I want to fly free, heart unbounded
But to have all of that would be wrong–
I am not one of those people
In the picture, in the gilded frame

I am unique, one-of-a-kind,
Or so I think.
Perchance I’m not alone
But in my world, that is a false assumption.
I am independent.

In my world,
For better or worse,
I am.