THE LIVING END (for Jim Morrison)

i am the mortal  
half brother
of gods
 
i am the horn,
the wing,
the drum,
and the lyre
blessed and cursed
 
holy and profane
 
i am a stranger
to these uneven streets
free and not free,
here but gone
before the light fades
and the pages turn yellow
and youth's fresh beauty
goes sour
 
i am wisdom
and folly,
a spark fading
in the damp chill
of Charleville,
doting on my  
beloved's bones,
then following
my shadow
through the alleys
and avenues
of Montparnasse,
finding my way
home