How Is It That?-?-?

Irony

A dance of love,
lewd and intimate
a fantasy unfulfilled.
Even though each split legged creature
asked the name of the song
and all would have danced….

As a favor
but not a gift of the heart….

When I love –

                there is no distance to far
                no fire to hot
                no ice to cold
                nothing to keep me from
                her…
                or to give more than I have.. hundred percent…

Sadness at the time lived unlived
waiting
hoping..

My old body still
entombs a young heart and love
unleashed
sensed by two
who I had hoped would kick down
the rest of the walls…
and dance that dance…

 Just a little time away
From when there is
time no more…
So we fulfill the prophecy
spoken by our parents.
What have we amounted to?
Money?
Work?

Missing the gifts given in silent
contemplation we have money
and stuff..

But we have not the love
and happiness
that is within our grasp.

So we fulfill their prophecy
of failing at life..

Why can I not turn love off
as everyone else can?

I feel no shame.. It is a gift to always love when
the words were spoken…

Now too old to start over
Or maybe to old to care anymore
I die loving someone who cares not.

And she dies living her life driven
by fear of not being loved…

The joke is on us…

But at least when I love…
I love….
And it is not a fleeting moment
or just a wake up call
for someone else’s rut.

She claimed she always feared me..
But she never did..
She feared what she always did…
Change and being the failure 
that her mother prophesized.

Failing at life….
Existing not living…
We are their dark legacy.