When a mountain
   I dare not climb
the ropes and tackles  
  are in abundance

In great shape
  my body and mind
Not a weak link
in the expedition

But when a mountain
  I dare to climb
the ropes and tackles
  are often misplaced

Out of shape
  my body and mind
Weakness as a
  spell does bind

Hopes and dreams
  of tireless youth can
be all but forgotten
  in the spiritually aged

Strength   the glittering
  cloak of youth can
fade in weakening
  jaded resolve

But in me common
  traits dissolve
The bucking steed
  will never be tamed

Pigeon-holed the
  misfortune of other
souls   has not been
  allowed by my resolve

But this determination
  is not without cost
The foothills of youth
  are far removed

by erosion caused by
  unstable belief systems
washed away into
  the Sea of Ambiguity

A distant mountain
  I often see
(distance   the deceiver
  of proportion)

Challenged at the foot
  of the formidable sight
halfway climbing
  only to slip and fall

Does this mountain
  need to be climbed
Do youthful dreams
  need to be fulfilled

When these dreams
  are all you ever had
you wake up falling
  or climbing higher

Driven by dreams
  and gifts and talents
that rage like a river
  in the driest desert

calling home what
  must come home
holding on to what
  must be fulfilled

Obstacles that have
  become landmarks
seem to fade
   into obscurity

like threats that
  always remain empty
laughing at what
  used to bring tears

I remain standing
  through all these trials
not unscathed
  and a bit weather beaten

halfway up another
  formidable mountain
making up for lost time
  from a major fall.

"The worst things:
To lie in bed and sleep not.
To want for one who comes not.
To try to please and please not."
                 -- Egyptian Proverb

It fades in and   fades             out
The     meandering    song of despair.
     Fading what  once     caused
The frequencies to harmonize.
Random patterns   desperately
     Random.

Her  moods   weave    in           counter
To my intense     focus in   the refrain.
        Our symbiotic   gazing across the room
At the  rhythmic  blue   light  Illuminating
Denials elusive      fingertip touch
Fading into yet another    impossible dream.

The notes are still     laid out on
The well-weathered pages.
The movements    still moving    gracefully
On a near anti-climactic      stage.

All that is   needed   are the instruments
And patrons of means to employ
A symphony    suffering long
On a soulless      listless     frequency  band
Made only to vibrate complete
But is now   caught    in   this      jumbled loop
In a now    out-        of-        sync  universe.

A steady pain
is more honest than any lover.
Skipping all formalities.
They just make you suffer.

listening as the
                          sea hears the
moon and sun
                    cascading flow or
pulling away
                               melded in
*******
                       tortured ecstasy
creating
                      a thousand words
for every birds
                                eye view

my body giving in
to
                               my mind
my soul somewhere
                                   in-between
silent worlds
                             of unseen eyes and  inward probing

               these neurotic bodies
swaying visceral waters 
                                 deeper currents not
complying  as yet in
                               this cosmic
****** of
                       light & darkness matter & void
                      affecting only the surface
pulling back
                          only waves
pushing them back
                to the ever-changing
shoreline

                       when affecting
only the surface  
                              it appears to
be dull monotony
                           at the beck and call of the
moon's every whim...
                                          oh  
and other orbs play
                    their part with her

but infinitely deeper
                   dramatic ebb and
flow
cannot be witnessed
                          by the seagull's gaze

the thoughts of the soul
                           are faint or nil
in the patterns of
                               vision-mind 

our bodies
                         listening to this galactic
dialogue seethe
                            in stagnant waters
when the mind like the
                       moon is all she
hears
or whatever brings
                          in a stronger
signal

we have taken her away
                            kept her estranged as
mutated cells eating away
                     conformed to the
image of an empty shell
                               of a neutral network
caught in a degenerative loop
                                  
a dense
gravitational pull slowly
                                leading her along
into the vortex of the
                                   absence of light

yet something our minds
                               cannot understand as
yet is developing
                     out of sight-mind   after
the imploding of her
                                  beautiful
mass

after
                  the burning-out of
countless worlds
                                     beyond
even the furthest reach
                               of the poetic
eye

a genesis beyond eden
                     attempting with
greater resolve to
                          orchestrate the divine
purpose of the
                       primeval garden
rearranged
                           and tuned to higher
******* harmony
                                  the new
birth of soul leading
                            body & mind
her voice
              being the gravitational orb
swaying visceral
                     waters and deeper currents
complying this
                              time around.