[ 1994/06/08 ]

Death is no parenthesis, he said,
Turning toward my tightly twisted form;
Staring at the wrath I thus displayed,
He gauged my passioned silence like a scale.

Tossing off those long forgotten robes,
He turned to meet my empathy head on.
As withering glares dissolved upon his brow,
My anger plumbed the heights of days to come.

Love and Hate eternally at war
Smiling brightly toward my startled gaze.
Which shall win this battle in my mind?
Which remains to see the piper paid?

Verse which turned upon me with a snap
Trapping me in jaws of slicing words --
That which I relied upon before
Slipping out to leave me on my own.

Finally I turned back toward my foe
Who struggled now to keep my form afloat;
I sank his body in the stormy seas
And followed as he hurtled toward the depths.