Clock Ticks Twelve

Farewell, my lady,
As the clock ticks Twelve.
Piercing rings of echos,
Metal slamming metal,
Invisible vibrations
Coming to remind me:
The crossing is at hand,
Behind the haze of fog
And distant silence.

Was it just a dream?
Memories so vivid:
Life uninhibited,
Wildly unorchestrated.
Pleasantly amusing.
Left me gasping,
Like a fish out of water.

Playing on razor sharp pins.
Flying to the moon.
Crashing into obscurity;
Dancing with elephants.
Soaring with eagles.
And singing fiercely with lions.
Tamed beasts;
Only the roar of civilization,
Impertinent and deceiving,

Tingles of love,
Like a limb awaken from sleep.
Needles like icicles
Remind me of life.
Pleasure and pain
Mingled together
In a stew of experience;
Stains of unqenchable want,
Fiery desire,
Cooled by callous melancholy.

My lady, she beckons.
And I shouldn’t be so rude
To keep her waiting.
But I could never forget,