You’ve painted out all of my truths
With your brutal fabric of humorous halting retreats,
And now you are pulling me back from the revelation,
With all your dumb indelicate degradations.
Just as I’m reaching enlightenment,
Just as the first glimmers break through
Out from all the dark massed distrusts,
And I’m really starting to believe in that word, hope:
It’s precisely that moment that you choose
To fulfil your self-appointed task and bring in disillusionment
I’m happy, inhabiting blue skies
And flying in streams of daydreams,
Where all of the passions unfold in a perfect pattern,
And the clouds envelop in impressions of cotton wool candy.
Now I’m a child lying in green,
Now I’m swallowed back into dependence
And into the warmth and arms of my mother,
Which cling round me and caress out the stresses,
And then it’s your voice, invading the space
And pushing me back into the tired old realms of oblivion.
What gives you the right to blur out all the fairy stories?
And crumble the sky castles with a so-called vision?
What makes your world better than mine?
I’m living for my own world of enlightenment
I will achieve the light finally
I will determine an evasive truth
Without any of your interfering commentary
I want to keep on repeating, stay away
From the fragile ethereal constructions, I fear they may break
But you don’t listen, too busy to hear.
thelibraryrooms 