Nature of the Beast: Poetry

Counterforce: The Weighted Scale

What is right
and wrong?
A loaded question asserts
philosophy.
Trigger words!
shout coddled youth.
No easy answer

Says I.

Weight depends
on angles
twisted and knotted up in opinion's roots.
Data
(that finest femme!)
is rarely
cited. There in all, oft
unacknowledged.
She suspends
her baited Pa'oua
from mind-wires,
whispering sweet knowings.

But bait is not taken
by the wise.

Or

is it?

Wisdom is wizened by experience.

To see,
Sightless,
is blindness.

To act,
Thoughtless,
is idiocy.

A weighted scale.
Countless weights.
Some right.
Some wrong.

More.

Less.

Rarely do opposites convene.
My choice? Task?
Choose,

or make them meet.

I did not mean to meet the Night
I did not mean for love to bite
But Night is soft and gentle, sweet
where Light brings harsh and blinding heat.

Night fears bright Light that others trust,
where I, dear fool, within combust
at every silver, moon-kissed smirk
she grants to me, her humble clerk.

Before each hunt she calls to me
so I might hear her hopeful plea
'I'm not afraid,' she says, 'not now
The Night and I are One, somehow.'

Night has Her own pale silver gleam
that heralds starlight's twinkling dream
Beneath silk moons She slinks and soars
without Light's warmth that Night abhors.

In cold she hunts whilst I, alone,
pray for her health within my home.
'Will she return from Night alive
to feast on Light that's been deprived?'

Night may fear Light, but loves it too
Her own light trapped in morning dew
But I, alone, still hope, still pray
that Light rise soon to chase Night away.

When comes the dawn's uprising burn
My prayers grow still and life-force yearn
for her to call and dash my fright
that I cannot help her with my Light.

Oh, why must Light adore Night so
when Night has not Light's warming glow?
I am the mouse, and she, the Cat,
who loves her so and won't fight back.

I Miss You

I miss you
when you aren't there with me
I miss you
when your smile's gone
I miss you
when night arrives and keeps the gentle dawn

I miss you
when I'm on the road
I miss you
when I'm safe at home
I miss you
when absorbed in thought or some lost ancient tome

I miss you

I miss you
in the broad of day
I miss you
when you're on the grind
I miss you
when you hide yourself from those you seek to blind

I miss you
when I see the stars
I miss you
when I sight the moons
I miss you
when wind and cloud weave on their silver looms

I miss you
when you die at night
I miss you
when you howl at light
I miss you
when you disappear to stir up primal fright

I miss you

I miss you
when you hear my calls
I miss you
when you tell your sins
I miss you
when the dark inside is allowed another win

I miss you
when you're on the line
I miss you
when you don't respond
I miss you
when you're deaf to words
concerned words so fond

I miss you
when I like awake
I miss you
when my spark is fraught
But I miss you no more when I see you smile
and I see what I've long sought.