I am Prometheus
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Cold gray streaks of dispassion prowl over my perceptions.
Songs of regret and remorse usher out my darkest side.
A great stench of insufferable, perverted caring encompasses me.
Infinitesimal slivers of hope creep in that I eschew and shun,
Causing me to re-open a hopeless, wieghting pain I chide
And cast off with the hope that its cleansing will ake me free.
Caustic fires of past pain, once dimmed, now glow burnished.
Memories of hoary, foul faults rear their jeering, aged heads.
Their vacillating voices prodding forth consanguine trangressions.
he coppery, bitter emanation of their blending into a finished,
Dark, rememberance makes my gorge rise as would moldering dead.
In this wintery night of hopeful trust forms my stung, lacerated, and bruised egression.
My trust denied, your sacred oath a faded remembrance,
You shrug off he who protected you from the gods' ire.
A lighthouse for your downward spiraled trance,
you see Prometheus, who gave the mortals fire.
Passions may roar that dampen the anguished, forlorn sighs of pain,
And pyres may burn away the emptiness that consumes with woe,
But the fire of my spirit shall not fade without your tinder and fuel.
On my wretched heart forever may remain that which is your stain,
Yet at the alter of my soul suffrage and reverence to myself is owed.
In the confrontation between spirit and soul, my reason will arrest the duel.
Now our ballad of love has sounded its lowest note;
That which you had plucked from me has grow anew.
The raging tempest has subsided, as I have found my Io.
Never again need my heart break, alhough your eyes may smote.
The rising spirit of my new found love shall not eschew
The aspiration and desire to share a love that endures to grow.
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Prof. Nicholson
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