in the shadow of the white mountain gleaming
still ice-crowned though the cherry trees blossom
the sky pale blue as the warmth of daylight fades
I’m lost in a memory of a dream forsaken

down this forgotten road to the heart of the city
bound from the distant east of unremembered journeys
was I fleeing from my fate, or running into the arms of destiny?
though can doom be truly turned aside, or only deferred for a moment?

was it the betrayal of my innocence
or the unanswered prayers that broke me?
pining for what never could be, where no roads lead
only a floating city on the horizon

that I chased mirages for so many years
until illusion was all that I knew
like the fog borne by the milk of the poppy
the tincture of laudanum
the empty promises of fairy tales
and of happily ever after

when the end of the story holds no resolution
only the fading of being, the mourning of memory
time stretches out like an endless ribbon of asphalt through the desert
the tomb may now lie empty, but the angel has not yet spoken
the journey not yet undertaken, and bread has not yet been broken,
and I won’t believe until I see his wounds

these wounds will not heal
even with the cauterizing flames
and with careful debridement

my soul only erodes, bit by bit, into the ocean
is doom wrought only at that final moment?
or is it when you realize the unerring blade cannot be turned aside, though long it may be ere it strikes true?