Silver – stanza 6

I am accustomed to being a vessel
And certainly used to being treated as one
Following instructions, given orders, commands
While being told not to think, not to feel
Let nothing find expression that isn’t deliberate
The consciously delivered communicated desire
Of someone else, perhaps the ghost of tradition
We have a strong sense of aesthetic right
And wrong, a razor of judgement that infects
Our whole being in words of discipline
You’re only really a dancer when you’re dancing
Feeling the stress, the exhaustion, the burn
Something compelling each volume
“Which one do I read first?” I asked
“Doesn’t matter, read them all at once
They’re really all the same story, told over”
Silver is Allison’s story, her diaries, journals
Malinov was the man who fell with Courlain
To their death just a few days ago
“Their stories will answer most of your questions
But you won’t really grasp them without
Reading the histories, Read what makes
Sense and read another until it gels”
Although I have never been one to write
I am a dancer, for Heaven’s sake
But I feel compelled to write this down
To lay out the things as I learn them
Almost as strong as my compulsion to dance
A level nothing else has ever risen to

Advertisements

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s