If all is Fair06:01 May 30 2010
Times Read: 584
If all is fair in love and war, then, I won't regret
anything. I feel my soul rest in its nest by night
among the geodesic lines of thought, where dark
fades not, but elongates the horizon, the way,
the universe expands beyond sights that lie
patient, growing faint: not as dim as an early waking,
but as clear as the unclear sight at the waking
of my fellow men. With each pressing regret,
I ask myself, "If the unwholesome truths of war lie
dormant in respect of confidence - every night
I go and visit my fallen comrades - why is the way
to any truth a path down a road to secrets in the dark?"
With each passing memory consumed by the dark,
my love for this country fades with the waking
of death in its place: a reality that follows its way
down a path, where dreams and thought fill with regret.
Every memory becomes lonely, and dusty as each night
that clips away wings of hope, where in fear they lie
forlorn, and forgotten, the way Autumn leaves lie
after a seasonal divorce. Every day seems dark
like yesterday, where I see fallen spirits, each night,
resting beneath the mid-night bay. With leafage waking,
secretly, beholden by the air's persistent way, I regret
to inform the world of a pleasant delight: for the only way
to rest in its nest of night, every person must give way
to sacrifice, and wandering. My memories lie
as broken lines that crutch at the world with regret
for some significance, in hope that all in the dark
view the world - as it suppresses my will with waking
to shrouds of black and white - solely not as day and night.
All of my love has been replaced by disdain this night:
black, unrequitted hate that rises the pleasant way
an eclipse does to blacken our sight. At my waking,
do not be surprised to find my dreams were taken as I lie
the way my country sought my fate: buried in the dark
to become a part of forgotten dreams that rot with regret.
Between the rise and rest of day and night, we plummet
the way the waking dusk falls to dawn. As I lie in the dark
with regret, I tell myself: "If all is fair, then, this is love."
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