– Pendant –
How like the Boy who Lived; to know
the yearning for the unattainable.
Before my eyes I see it, feel it almost
but I cannot grasp at it, slips through my fingers
like the traitor water in the font that mocks,
Outstretched fingers to an object of defiance;
never shall it surrender,
a mutiny against the hands that pray for it.
Perhaps to drink may let me…
Yet would I
if I had the chance, take hold of what destroys?
Time and time again it screams,
but do I hear it now? I cannot tell.
Whispers tearing through the throat that
Voices of another life,
another time in which I might have heard them.
And hear them yes, I did, but now…
I cannot hear it anymore.
No more do the echoes of an idol
call to me.
O, Boy who Lived, how could you make him drink?
To know it hurt, a poison to the lips
of he who taught you all you knew,
who spoke to you the only
words that you held dear.
And yet I wish for it.
To drink perchance to know,
Know how to feel again.
To feel, perchance to live.
Do I live now?