for AAB

I no longer feel to voyage on, since I no longer feel

I no longer feel to voyage on this NICE pathway

That is no pathway but a rutted track that steers the wheel

On a golden course (for some) to where only dark shadows play.

And I know that once upon this path, largely for others' needs,

This chariot will charge forward with this form

(Only this supine body travels now)

And I cannot stop nor even slow these steeds.

 

Totenfeier fades, its thunderclaps resound.

One last step down, his baton toward the ground

Maazel maestro breathless hangs his head

An endless aching silence crowns

A warrior's submission, that very moment dead.

 

'Do you go to the theatre much?' a screech owl of a woman

Turned to ask me at a cocktail party once.

I never seem to be able to get out of the damn place, I replied.

She took offence and took off. No great loss.

But here I am again.

 

Once at the ridgepole of this spinning world,

I saw only smiling or anxious hopeful eyes.

Now I am the sacrificed, not sacrificer.

No longer high priest but the infirm prize.

And all the eyes above these masks now cut cold.

No need to manage expectations, surgeon.

Spare me the prologue, I'm sold.

 

Is it cowardice, even traitorous to go

Gentle, peaceful, and not fall fighting,

One pathway not taken, another door not opened

Allowing a fragile flower's sap to offer solace,

Knowing that there is no rose-garden?

Must I hold the line 'til a slow bitter end?

No, not now for me to struggle and to rage

Dazzled on this bright and sterile stage.

 

Enough hope to hang myself, a hope not ever sure.

Because I know I can no longer hope to journey on

To where hope lies, as lure of cure,

Knowing too well the pathway I help cut, the terrors beyond,

Gauging probabilities, help me to forget

The actuarial numbers and the truths of all our trials.

For all anecdotal evidence must be ignored.