Silver – stanza 6

I am accustomed to being a vessel
And certainly used to being treated as one
Following instructions, given orders, commands
While being told not to think, not to feel
Let nothing find expression that isn’t deliberate
The consciously delivered communicated desire
Of someone else, perhaps the ghost of tradition
We have a strong sense of aesthetic right
And wrong, a razor of judgement that infects
Our whole being in words of discipline
You’re only really a dancer when you’re dancing
Feeling the stress, the exhaustion, the burn
Something compelling each volume
“Which one do I read first?” I asked
“Doesn’t matter, read them all at once
They’re really all the same story, told over”
Silver is Allison’s story, her diaries, journals
Malinov was the man who fell with Courlain
To their death just a few days ago
“Their stories will answer most of your questions
But you won’t really grasp them without
Reading the histories, Read what makes
Sense and read another until it gels”
Although I have never been one to write
I am a dancer, for Heaven’s sake
But I feel compelled to write this down
To lay out the things as I learn them
Almost as strong as my compulsion to dance
A level nothing else has ever risen to

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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