Cold - March 7, 2000

It is cold comfort that I take
to know that I am 
searching
for the light
that is my soul.

One that would
quench my thirst for love
such that my spirit tires
in the struggle.

To know that there -is- a one
meant for me
that accepts me
as I am
as I was
as I will be.

It is with cynical grace
that I live
withdrawn from life
but for a bar
where I write
to drown my sorrows.

It is with futility
that I search
for that other half
of the soul -
a treasure beyond price
to be held carefully
for they would 
hold my heart
and cleave my soul.

It is the lingering pain
of the fear
that binds me tightly
and carefully.