and, O, to be compelled as thus:

with soaring thoughts and a gracious mind,

searing portals to new worlds

that may never quite heal.

exploration at its finest temptation,

the demon disguised by Eden's sweet desire;

a moment of glory

that promotes an hour of need.

and yet miserable wails are cast

to the east, in despair

from a wretched, and somehow everlasting existence.

these thoughts are encrypted

deep beneath the imposing battlements of deceit;

that a beautiful artifact

won't soon become a desperate lifeline;

that each link you lovingly add to the chain,

won't be the one to suffocate you,


that such sacred thoughts

will wary at once to be departed

when the sun sets.

Darkness will be all around, and yet

with a candle of hope,

you will imagine the stars,

shining brightly through midday,

like a dream that reads true

until you awaken.

you are destined to be dashed

against the uncaring presence of reality,

as the cohesion breaks in conclusion,

and you are swallowed into darkness once again,

plunging deep beyond the realm of the light,

with only the memory of some such sweet temptation

with which to abide.

the memory of an age-old story

(within which you were once compelled,)

that paints you with a soft, nostalgic glow

that keeps you from reaching out for

the light from any other path.