Analytical Despair

Shadows cut a path of budding doubt,
as the worn soft skin of mutiny sheds in peals.
There is a warmth desire will not be without,
but it burns far faster than it heals.
Fear sounds as light dares drink; its movement deft,
startled by a merciless slap against the stone.
Cold will soon eat through what is left,
for what is left, will not be left alone.
In shadow completeness remains elusive,
as subtle destruction calls the forgotten name.
If memories will not come to the most persuasive,
perhaps desire will suffice to bear the blame.
Soon beauty has been corrupted by action,
in the deep wells of devastation refined.
But corruption breeds conception,
and will attract dreams of its kind.
When dreams end and flesh parts from bone,
tense heart is joined with swollen mind.
But unity imprisoned in thorns overgrown,
is torn free from too ripe a rind.
Whispers of resistance may be found in the wind
but a breeze will not be kept.
Faithful, fateful desire returns, the ends singed,
innocence exhausted, it has not slept.
Through betrayal too base to recognize,
sweetness has prevailed in refusal to subside.
Yet in half-light the wounded heart may part her eyes,
and release the strings of once afflicted pride.
Unveiled eyes see not surrender, but long awaited release,
stories breathing fire in a recrudescent voice.
And if a spiraling road does lead to peace,
perhaps peace will be a crossroads brimming with choice.