composed around a solemn and sorrowful reverie
nearly completed in worshipful detail
the paparazzi were coming over the wall
a Madonna (no, not Madonna, a Madonna)
quiet and alone and accepting of grief
Helicopters flying in the gawking rich kids
the bill: "She who needs no name"
a triumph, it was to be a ... it smiled. Impossible!
The sculptor's trowel fell on his foot
the shell of plaster broke away, a mess of
confusion and stammering and secret wishes
his work!! not spoiled ... exactly
it's over for you, too, you know.
no more simple solitude of a broken heart
no more leaden habit of betrayal or loss
no more eternal corridor of false hope,
as the master says,"suffering is the
dream of the death of your child."
yet you should keep your jewel
the glistening emptiness within your chest
that sees rightly the futility of this chase
it opens another, a holy world
it sees into the hearts of every soul.
awakening, you may carry up your grief,
but will find me here, knowing you
as beautiful and wise, a dream too,
perhaps, but not more or less
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