Eyes of the Game

Cast the mold about her aura
And leave it to last
Through the ages that put pain and awe
In folds for the past
To contain and cue every move
I ever had tried
And performed only tasks approved
To hide what I cried.

Close control becomes the game’s name
While her eyes would haunt
What gross distance grew in mere shame
Through which was the font
Of un-reckoned spurs to want and art
My will waged and pled,
But the seized leash held no part
In what they had said.

Dare I know not to ever share
To peel my heart’s pages
From the binds buried to keep rare
The burden of ages
Spent accepting all lies as love
Denying such depth
While pursuing false pangs above
Each latent lost breath.

Should the game ever grasp a peace
Which was once so sought
By my being’s thirst for release
I never forgot,
I could fare to face the onset
Of duty done here
Or just crumble before the bets
On the game of fear.

But the blinds won’t be lifted until
All share the riches
Her Grace bears and aims to fulfill
What words become switches
On the tracks traveled to obey
The bargain they spent
With woe to obscure and betray
The times to repent.

RVM            (6/28/12)