dreams of a postmodern poet

[jadeknight]

Living in the brilliance of a Golden age,
             He tore himself away from the lights
of pain
(or more)
             And brought himself back to Earth.
Not the earth of others-
No mere mortal would he let himself
             fall to be
But in the fleshy thoughts of his rusted mind,
             there lived another Man.
More than these!
             let it be held
That he would never stumble again
Or find the childhood of innocence
             in another’s rose.
Grace and grace and pain
(or memory)
             but not forgotten,
He writes again today.