|Paul, Only Failed
The dawn sky.
meshing with the autumn breeze.
My puckered soul ponders
the protective shield noted by the martyr.
Indispensable to the idealistic Ephesian,
its shiny un-tested-ness transformed.
My Kevlar vest,
closely worn but slowly pierced.
Not by a bullet but a burrowing thought,
like cud-zoo in my untended garden.
The creeping power of time and determination.
Cracking through the chilled chrysalis,
a hair shirt emerges.
Unwieldy and uncomfortable,
to restore the luster by lice and burrs.
Only to become my straight jacket,
like hot wax pooling snugly around a lonely flame.
As darkness closes and the cold deepens,
my aphasic light suffocates.
Flickering its last,
shadows wince and turn away,
weeping while the candle burns out
bound and unshielded.
I put my hands in my pockets
and walk home,
mourning the dawn.
© Robert G. Mooney