Hope

It is said that the darkest sky

Precedes the dawn, and it is

Now a dark, dark sky that

Caresses the night around this

World. But I see the small flame

Of a single candle flickering far

In the distance, growing now

And broadening out like the

Train of a wedding gown that

Has been freed from its bustle,

Like the tail of a peacock that

Fans its feathers to reveal its

Colorful glory. This small glow

That rises over the obscuring

Horizon, golden in its splendor,

Warmth in its touch, transforms

From that single small point of

Light into a blazing ball of

Nuclear reaction bringing hope

And life to the sleeping souls

Beneath its breaking gleam.

Yes, in the bleakness there is

Hope, rising as the sun greets

The dawning day, stroking

Across this earthly canvass.

And even now, as I consider

That object of the eternal

Spring, the hope that gives

Us the will to wake with every

New daybreak, it blankets me

With its comforting hold and

Presses me onward, piercing

Dark skies, moving from one

Dawning day to another.

 

-Dakin 10/29/08

Crying In The Wilderness

Taking custody of my empty

Soul of sadness as I

Think on this terrifyingly

Huge universe, I feel

So suddenly small and

Wonder about whether I

Will some day discover the

Significance of myself.

Or, rather, when I ask the

Question, will I be shocked

To discover that the

Answer is only what I

Make of these tools today?

I stand on the cusp of

An uncertain black hole of

Despair, but retain the

Choice of whether to allow

My mind to spin into

The unending spiral, or to

Turn away and travel to

Those new horizons afar,

Galaxies of a global wealth

Of knowledge and experience.

And here in this paper and

Pen I can record a

Snippet of some new thought

And trust that perhaps it

May pass on to generations

Forward, so that they may

Gather some small glimpse

Of the heart and mind of

This single man who may

Speak for others, too.

But maybe the gift I leave,

Should it be discovered

In an unknown future,

Is a belief and a promise

That the single, solitary

Point of view that drives

The desire to grow and live

And communicate is as

Valid as the varied collective

Consciousness of an emerging

Empire bent on its own

Steamrolling path of populous

Self-destruction and assimilation.

What does that single sentence

Mean, adopted by a population

Now relegated to some trite

Bumper-sticker motto:

Live free or die – I have

An answer, but regardless of

Its relevance, I wonder

What answer do you have?

 

-Dakin 7/30/08

Give Up All

Victim of aborted hours,

Taken through this storm of sorrows;

Dark the clouds that fill this sky

When rain fell once again.

How still the heart that beat before;

How dead the mind that cannot think;

The fortune of ago now spent

As future fears arrive.

To breathe the breath of solitude

And walk the wire strung on high,

Losing balance over all

And falling to the ground.

Where once I stumbled, now I stand

To face my crime of avarice.

Where once I fumbled, I remand

My verdict to re-try.

Illusion of past centuries

Tied by psychic energy

To haunt the hours that I walk

By night beneath the moon.

I feel the pain of claws that grip

My swollen shoulders as I dare

To reach afar and leave this prison

Naked, stoned and stabbed.

Is this the bargain that I’m offered?

Is this the salt that seasons tears

Falling over cheeks that glisten

Where laughter once held sway?

I do not know what’s left to shelter

This, my world, from fallout’s snow.

Though thick these walls, they fail me now

As isotopes descend.

My body glowing like the sun

From radiation I’ve absorbed

It burns away the scales I’ve grown

Exposing this raw skin.

I scream in anguish as I feel

The burning lick from tongues of flame,

Devouring mind, spirit, body,

And charring all within.

Then distant mountains steal my sight,

Their snowcapped summits split the air,

Their coolness offered beckons ever

To douse what I’ve become.

And finally the journey’s path

Once hidden now becomes so clear;

Despite the burdens borne by me,

I find I must ascend.

 

-Dakin 3/13/08

Sing To Me

Sing to me the soft lullaby

You voiced within my dreams last night,

The one that starts “Why can’t I breathe

Whenever I do think of you?”

Sing to me and let the sound

Of sultry tones ensnare my thoughts,

And dream with me, for sleep I did

Erasing the distant miles afar.

Perchance to sleep, perchance to dream;

A chance to live the summer’s length

Extended over months of longing

And lives worth living once again.

Your voice still echoes in my ear;

Your song, it will not cease to be,

Much softer than the sirens’ call

And yet it churns my aching soul.

Sing to me in soft, simple tones

That float like feathers in the sky

To penetrate facades I’ve grown

To protect the deepest desires within.

Sing to me now, a supple lay

Of melody and poetry

Of words not shared but when alone

When spirits dance in harmony.

Sing to me and we shall dance

A waltz in rhythm as we breathe

And as our hearts beat out the time

Your eyes I’ll drink as you sing to me.

 

-Dakin 3/5/08

My Own Worst…

Heavy are the lids that cover my eyes,

That keep me in this half-dream state

Of being as I sleepwalk through these

Days of restless tossing between sheets.

It is not that I am distracted by the lights

Shining through my bedroom window,

But by the thoughts that race around my

Mind that simply will not slow down.

Gnawing at my consciousness is the idea

That there certainly is something more

Important than these possessions of mine

That could be rolled in a ball, taken away.

It is the desire to be more active coupled

With the inertia of comfortable existence

That troubles my waking dreams, nagging

At me constantly to question my beliefs.

For I find that what I would do, I do not,

And that what I do, I would not were I but

Given the opportunity to replay this Act,

This scene, this progression of moments.

All the while finding that I am my own

Stumbling block, the unremoved stump

In my yard, the protruding root that trips

My step on this path of nightly wandering.

And on the wind I catch the words that

Identify my own ambivalence about the

Words I write here: I want to give out,

And yet, I just find that I want to give in.

I still believe in the opportunity that my

Breathing lungs and beating heart give me,

To seize the part of myself that takes action,

To make in some way a better place to dream. 

 

-Dakin 10/07/08