The Semblance

March 2000

I glance at a reflected image,
only to see the imperfections of life.
To glimpse at a simple reality,
through eyes of a silent watcher.

Complex is man that he weaves a pain so consuming,
To bring out a cry from the depths of his soul.
Only to understand the thin layer of fulfillment,
He has already thrown away.

I saw a bitter truth in the eyes of my peers.
Helplessness with what we have.
The ever singleness of defeat.
Multiplicity in all our failures.

Never would I ask for what they could not give.
For I could not bring them to the lows I’ve been.
All the questions unanswered and all the answers unheard,
Warp not the image I have for I am weak.

To run from these that reminds me of my misery
To seem to go in dizzying circles.
Repetitious upheavals in the minutest turns.
Uncomfortable in all its being.

The smallest I hold precious to my heart,
and the greatest I could never let go.
They are all my rivets of my calm,
that anchors me solid to ground.

A nodule of paranoia.
A confused soul too pitiful to find lost.
Struggling with what life gave,
and so helpless in the elements that it thrives on.

Herald death to my doorstep at my finest,
but do not I beg of you, in my defeat.
Bring me to fruition in my redemption
Fulfillment in my simple image.



* * *

Amiel Gerald A. Roldan™
Mandaluyong City, Philippines

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