Introspectus

INTROSPECTUS

Not for this and that...

or this alone...

Did I halt or hesitate

in the shadows of youth and age ...

not for a breath of words

to breathe a breath of life

into a dead, (or sleeping), page ...

(ink blood on paper bone!)

... Not for this, alone ...

have I stopped and turned

and stooped and touched

                                 The Stone

That marks my grave ...

Not for this ...

That one might have

A face to know, a name to call

                      or something to save.

No ... not for this and that

                        or this alone

Have my fingers traced the words upon

                                            The Stone.

No ... not for this ...

That I might have seen a smile

                         or felt a kiss

Or found a hand to touch

                        or one to hold ...

Not for this

Would I have been so bold

To stand in the Dark Alone

And reach a trembling hand

                               To touch The Stone.

Not for this and that ...

           and more as well ...

Did I slow, in mid-stride

The impatient step of youth ...

Not for this ... Time's Truth,

and wisdom to see beyond

Time and The Bell and Eternity ...

Not for vision of Heaven or Hell

Did I sail into "The Great Uncharted",

                       Where dragons are

and feebly, fearfully, falteringly

Snap the line that broke

                                  The Shell
 

That holds my mind ...

... Not for this ...

That I might find New truth

or forms of truth to leave behind,

So that one or another, (even you!),

Walking that same way,

Might see my work ... and, maybe, say,

"His wisdom serves us well ...

Look! He posted signs in places where he fell."

No ... not for this and that ...

                                        and more as well

Did I seek the strength, (or fear),

To hurl the shot that dropped and broke

                                                 The Shell.

No ... not for this ...

that I might have learned

The wonders of the wisdom of

The Ancients, or discerned

The Mindless Mysteries of Madness ...

That I might have mapped

The hidden places of the mind

and marked, within the maze,

                                      The Way,

(Blind leading blind!)

Around that dark abyss ...

No ... not for this ...

Did I hover so long

On the brink of that mindless Hell

And raise the trembling hand of madness

                                   To break The Shell.

Not for this and that ...

                 or what occurred ...

Could I have forced the courage from a failing heart

To dream The Dream and stand and play the part ...

                ... Not for this ...

That I might have whispered

                                        The Secret ...

(Even knowing it was gladly heard)

Could I have stepped from

the safety of the silent shadows and

Soundlessly ... hopefully ... willingly whispered

                                                  The Word

That gave my heart

into the hands of a stranger ...

           ...Not for this ...

That we might have shared

Moments together ... hours apart ...

Each leaving, in the other's keeping,

                                                A Heart ...

No longer "Hers" or "His", but ours! ...

                ...Not for this ...

That we might have walked together all our days

Down all the tumultuous, troubled, loving ways

Of perfect, painful, living love ...

... Not for all that might, (or not),

Have, perhaps, someday occurred,

Would I have dared

To dream the dream

That dared to speak

                            The Word.

No ... Not for this ... That we might have paused

In the sunset of our days,

And, hand in hand, we might have stood,

And ... looking back across life's distant haze ...

Might have whispered ... each to each ...

Yes! Yes! It was good!

No ... not for all the dreams

Together we might have dreamed ...

Not for all the sad, sweet songs

                                    we might have sung or heard ...

Could my timid soul have forced

the faltering tongue and trembling lips

                                               To speak The Word.

But ... just for this, for this

                                    And this alone ...

(Take it ... please ... it's the only dream I own!)

That one might someday see some work of mine,

and read it over slowly ... ...line by stumbling line ...

... that someone or another (even you!)

Might pause, just long enough to say, "It's true!"

"Yes! He felt my pain ... as I feel his!"

"That's how it was ... it must have been ... it is!"

... Just that someone, somewhere,

(Perhaps someone alone),

Might say, "So that was it ...

I see, now, why he dared to touch

                                                    The Stone!"

Or perhaps someone ... (in his own private hell),

Might see my words and think, "He told it well ...

he must have walked where I have walked

for I, at least, can feel the pain

that bred the courage,

(or framed the fear), that broke

                                                      The Shell!"

If someone somewhere, anyone anywhere, (even you!),

Might see the things I've seen

And hear the song I heard,

And smile and say, "Why yes, I understand ...

he had no choice ... he had to do it ... I know ...

I, too, have been compelled to speak

                                                     The Word!"

If I could only hope ...

(If I only dared to hope!)

That someone somewhere, anyone anywhere ... (Even You!)

Perhaps might someday, somehow, understand ...

I'd turn back now ... yes ... I would turn

Back from all the plans I've planned ...

I'd lay down my dreams and dare to stand

alone in the meandering maze

of that same mindless Hell ...

And look again for what we've seen ...

And listen for what we've heard ...

And stop and turn and stoop

             And touch The Stone

                            And break the Shell

                                             And speak The Word.