THE GUEST

you're lucky you don't live inside the quicksand that is my soul
i'm constantly fighting to release myself from the muckity muck
a whiny sniveling man-child, a sad lonely oversensitive lad who wails
and wails and wails and wails, tempest tossed and fragmented
at one moment strong, creative, full of love and piss and vinegar
ready to be, ready to live, ready to solve the problems of the world
then down into the abyss i fall again, no hope, no answers, no joy
 
re-surfacing i see the shining faces of love, remnants of what once was
desire, expectation, wanting, longing, needing, holding, loving
passionate fire, healing elixirs, airborne connective tissue, earthbound
i crawl and crawl onward, moving backward and then toward me
toward you. contrary confusing echoing laughter lights the way
where am i?  where are you?  what happened to all those i once loved?
the child appears by my side smiling, bearing the gift of sight

i see more clearly now but then the shadow appears and fear takes hold
it leads me further on, further on toward the unknown.  i resist.
let me go!  lead on! give me strength! the day turns to night
the sky opens up in a deluge soaking me to the bone, my shoes
float away. barefoot and cold i seek refuge in the dark forest.
in the distance there is a house, windows illuminated with a warm glow
i stand at the doorway with great expectation and with courage, i knock...