The Treason

The pain of loss - and fear of loss - I have long forgotten,
Betrayed by crowded memories, by joy of love begotten.
The day is dulled by ache and wait, light of hope despairs,
The heart now longs for its missing piece, stolen unawares.
Wells long closed bear bitter fruit, in unexpected season,
The joys of life now underpinned by challenges beyond reason:

To trust what is loved to things unknown;
To turn bitter water to reflect but stone;
To continue what had never begun;
To look for light in an eclipsed sun;

For the left hand to forget the right;
For the bird to refrain from flight;
For a journey to split in a single direction;
For the heart to slip from one's own attention.

Who has the right to give directions but a traveller of similar days?
Why did i listen to the words of a fool who understood but his own ways?
In return - long delayed - when memories stir,
A quickening chill grips the heart in a blur.
Though sleep still brings peace, its rest has been taken,
Hidden past all is weariness, easily mistaken.
And still, when in life - distracted, involved -
The still off-beat rhythm demands to be solved,
A mystery of ages locked inside far too deep,
Robbing the simple of rest and the complex of sleep,
This conundrum of love, the desires sense abhors,
Is the stuff that rips kingdoms, sparks planetwide wars.

I was never the first (nor was that intended)
To feel the heart from the mind aloft and suspended,
To find the soul shout protest, for the mind to long ache,
The muscles lose interest, the bones long to break.
Above them all pounds a noise far too loud,
Too resigned, far too strong, multiplied as a crowd.
In defiance it roars, in objection it rattles,
Against bars of forced hope, long encased in its shackles.
It fights for attention, rages to be heard,
Resolves to not quit, to repeat every word,
To retain its disgust for the man who denies
The freedom to run for the light for his eyes.
To shake every wall in its cell of 'sound reason'
The prince off its throne sees but red for the treason.
The room shakes with each breath, the prison fades with each tear,
The heart resolves to break through, to resolve all this fear.

All else call it folly, the heart's resolution,
The answer, The way, The true retribution,
That is why it is bound - it long forgot reason,
And cares but for itself in the loneliest season.
It will not be heeded - but will not be killed,
Fated to be bound - but never be stilled.
It refuses all comfort but from its first joy,
Shall not be denounced as fancy or toy.

It is here the true problem makes itself truly known,
The choice of love's folly or silence as stone.
Neither is an option, no choice can bring rest,
So continues the treason of mind over chest.