My solitary confinement has been besieged,
My inner sanctum discovered
By the rumblings of gypsies -
Nomadic lovers whose prose
Touch across miles never traveled,
Through eyes that have never met

As if we all lived together
In some metropolyptic bliss,
Sharing ideas over lattes and tea;
Conversations that linger
Into the moon’s domain and beyond,
Twilight moments of magic
In the dead of night awakened.

I find myself lingering,
My favorite shadow
One gypsy in particular.
He hovers, always near to my daytime,
Just where I live -
Lurking, watching and loving beyond his means,
A moment of decadence,
I bask in the rain of his words,
Let them happily pile at my feet
Until I am blanketed on all sides,
And the breathing comes easier,
A wash of relief as I let go
And let every sorrow trickle away -
All this while he tends to the real-life presence
Of the bodies and souls of his truest dedications.

I am grateful, none the less, for these gifts -
The faces who are not physical associations,
Rather, the ephemeral touch of souls to souls -
Our pathetic community,
Gypsies of the thriving, virtual landscapes
Of boolean address.

07/07/2008

Author's Note: I am so grateful for my Pathetic friends, and the love and support I am so lucky to have found here. And, yes, I do believe I made up the word "metropolyptic". Hehe.

Posted on 07/07/2008
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie