Life Is Never Black and White

by Skye Haerrington

What is love, but Shakespeare�s sing song rhymes?
A dream the world clings to so that we each may
Hold a reason to live. And what is the heart but
A stain glass window, mirror of the world of dreams.
Amour is nothing but a child�s nighttime story land,
A pathway opened by the flickering, dying imagination.
Perhaps I am a cynical old spinster at an age tender
Only in years. Perhaps I am molded by a world in which
True love of the fanciful kind could never thrive.
But when the cool dark air of the starless night enfolds
Me and I find myself locked away in the fairy tale of
My mind, I think so differently. I have a lover. He has
Not a drop of cruelty in his body. His touch is tender
And sweet as the taste of ripe fruit freshly picked from
The orchard. He is my Achilles, and I both the base of
His strength and the heel. He is the Eros to my Psyche.
He is my god and I his priestess. I am his heart and he
Is my World. We are shapeless, formless, embodied in
All. He brings the sweet morning dew, but disappears
With the rising sun. And I am left to return to the cynical
Wraith the burning orb that darkens my world has
Reduced me to. I live for the nights. And so, when
Night falls, I am the world�s fool despite the existence
I know during the waking dream of life and it is
That approach that lets me live on, if this is living.