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Bohemia

by Richard Vince

Not a state, but a state of mind;
Not a nation, but a notion.
A metaphorical home for an angel
Before the demon’s inevitable
Arrival to collect his prize.

It’s all imagery, of course, but
No less real for that: the endless
Tug of war is a metaphor for
A metaphor, for the endless battle
Being fought in and for our
Hearts and souls, the very essence
Of our beings.

My simple mind, grown in
The simple world of a simple life,
Cannot comprehend how it feels
To know one is simultaneously
Right and wrong; to be standing
With one foot either side of a fault line
As the continents drift apart.

Was the end disguised as a beginning,
Or was it the other way around?
Was an old life traded for
A new one, or was it merely
A continuation after all?

Perhaps that was the secret:
Acceptance of one’s fate
Opening the door to a state of
Uncaring bliss; the lightening of
A heart believed unavoidably doomed.

And when that door was
Finally opened, after more years
That he expected but fewer
Than he deserved, I hope that
It led to heaven after all.

10/09/2018

Posted on 10/17/2018
Copyright © 2018 Richard Vince

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