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.