Dare I Ask?
And shall I dare ask the burning question,
For so long frozen within my restless soul,
Imbuing my tongue with aching numbness,
And igniting that rabid percussion in my chest?
And must I lose this transient and uneasy peace
When bloodstains adorn pages dull and musty,
Or memory’s pain escapes its weighty chains
Like shadows ruthlessly torn from the bodies of the dead?
And shall I then proceed with the transaction,
Or accept the inevitable, or negiotate a deferrment,
Knowing well that choice, in reality, does not exist,
But that it is just the foggy, elusive dream of fools?
And must I, without argument, embrace your terms,
Walking away wringing my hands in mournful dejection,
Like a canine chased off with its tail between its legs
And complaining about the gross unfairness of it all?
And can I will that this be nothing but a fading dream
Trapped in a thicket like the substitution for a sacrifice,
A weary dream in which life begins to die as soon as it is born
And begins to live as soon as it dies or is no more?
And after all is done, shall I dare to ask the question,
In process baring my soul, exposing my vulnerabilities,
Risking the eternal summons, the dark confrontation;
And in the end will He be bold enough to answer?
[Photographic Art by Ric Couchman]