01-21-2011, 01:48 AM
Armed with the crossbow of cynicism
I dared believe myself above
The bewinged demon that is love.
But like a house concealed by snow
Then exposed to the glare of the sun,
I felt my shell evaporate, my windows
Glisten, those diamond eyes, staring
Once more on my soul’s barren plains.
Reduced to a slave of base desire,
I unwillingly stoked that internal fire.
Now roaring with life through this
Wretched winter, my pretences,
Glass soldiers, shattered forever,
I lament the loss of my weak defences.
I dared believe myself above
The bewinged demon that is love.
But like a house concealed by snow
Then exposed to the glare of the sun,
I felt my shell evaporate, my windows
Glisten, those diamond eyes, staring
Once more on my soul’s barren plains.
Reduced to a slave of base desire,
I unwillingly stoked that internal fire.
Now roaring with life through this
Wretched winter, my pretences,
Glass soldiers, shattered forever,
I lament the loss of my weak defences.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe