The Poet That Ran Out Of Rhyme

There’s a metaphor just beyond reachingAn intuitive je ne sais quoiIt’s a wave that was all set for beachingthat dispersed in a dearth of sangfroid.It’s a mirror that gives no reflectionLike a clock’s hands too tired to turnIt’s a teacher that gives no correctionIt’s our passion too frozen to burn

There’s an elegant enigma,

it’s a truth too hard to face

There’s a Stig that lost its stigma

you must willingly embrace.

We’re a forest too dense for the thinningWe are angels who’ve fallen from graceWe are planets incessantly spinningWe are humans that just lost the race.I’m the hare that you froze in your headlampsBy the words that should not have been spokeI’m a counsellor trapped in your Transference.I’m the lover whose heart that you broke.

I cannot fit your convention

I’m the slave you cannot sell

I could yet be your redemption

If you have the will to tell

I’m a bow poising over a fiddleAn immortal who’s frozen in timeI’m a story that stopped in the middleA clock tower forgetting to chimeI’m cynic become a believerI’m an actor awaiting your cueI’m a giver become a receiverStill impaled on the passion of you

Please accept my intervention,

it is born of good intent

You could yet be my redemption

Will you give me your consent?

I’m a soul sacrificing redemptionI’m a straight line refusing to bendFor the sake of fulfilling conventionI’m a fable refusing to end.I’m a hero that ran out of causesA corner with nowhere to turnI’m a sentence with too many clausesA Nero with nothing to burn.

Won’t you free me from the Stigma

As the slave you will not free

You cannot be my redeemer

It is time you let me be

We are grief stricken, lost in denialWe are liars who ran out of liesWe’re like criminals facing our trialWe are Seers who blinded our eyes.Did we share nothing more than our passion?Did we just burn too bright for too long?Tell me, why we discarded our compassionTell me, where in the world I belong.

I’m an elegant enigma,

I’m a truth too hard to face

I’m stigmata still bleeding with stigma

It is time that we embraced.

I’m a Sharman of deep comprehensionTell me why I can’t force you to stayThough I rave against time’s interventionsI’m still watching you walking awayI’m a Soothsayer tired of lyingBut this is my ultimate crime:I’m a warrior frightened of dyingI’m the poet that ran out of rhyme.