Bury the Bridesmaid 10-20-02

Am I now to study my reaction to affliction
With loneliness at the left hand of my distress
And yet the bridesmaid of my artistry
Showing up on any date I ask her to
Lending time and emotion
To express the shape of my heart in works
Yet leave me alone to my fate
To ponder if solitude is at the core of nature as well
With necessity of understanding
In this way I presume to be akin to her
And fulfill a further need of receptivity
Wondering whether her cries would be ignored
If no one were to magnify and translate them
Even as these talents have drawn my solace and despondence
Into the light of other possibilities
While walking my path in, and of, contemplation
Where pain is fuel for willpower
And I, the fisherman of resilience
Will travel the lonely miles with my pole again
Never baited or hooked
As I'll not cast into water just because it's inhabited
I instead study the patterns in fluid movements
Until all the fish have been caught
Perhaps even by their own impatience
But I pause to study the fishermen
Who catch their daily limit
Thinking; the nemesis of action
Though they are paramount in cooperation
Waiting; the mistress of miseries
And they are volatile lovers
Destroying more in their affair
Than faith alone can counter
As such, hope has not become the undertaker of my loneliness
It seems more of a star or entertainer
Offering a distraction
As it brings the full vibrance of feeling artistically together
For mere moments
While I watch
Helplessly clinging to my star
Until the bridesmaid steps in again
To be amplified, as energy, for understanding
That I can study and think on
Without action
Knowing I'll watch that pain repeat again
As recollection paints that cycle to no end
Until I discover that undertaker
In confidence and in love