Gloating before the unrequited,
We find the dashing, sanctioned, and corrupt.
Their brave hearts undeserving,
Granted only by the conquests of their fathers,
And the favoritism of Nature's *****.

There were countless sleepless nights spent amid your memories.
Your cruel indifference, the Nightmare on my chest.

You are unworthy and wretched. Disgraceful and dishonorable.
Unfit and useless. Discordant and dissident.

Your true love is apathy.
And still, despite a noble effort,
I always find my thoughts ...
Returning to you.

~

a woman, weeping,
at her own wedding dinner,
copiously, bleating sobs,
unsignaled, unprovoked, inexplicable.

misunderstanding guests,
shifting their weight
from foot to foot,
searching for a combo-pose of
of joyous discomfort.

all is well, say the wedding singers,
hymns of wedding songs they perform,
encouraging the standers-about
to dance,
all whom are inconsolably confused about
the wed woman's recognition of a
moment's milestone marker
which distinguishes, her totality,
feeling the differential between
the miles ahead,
the miles already passed,
but cannot answer
the singular considerable consideration question,
is this mine, the right road
and am I
who I am supposed to be,
or the supposition of others

which is why bride weeps at her wedding

~

a sober, industrious, quiet man
of many middle years,
seen sway dancing on the lawn
at 6:00 AM,
to sounds unheard,
was it music, voices,
a breaking point,
the birth of madness?

we, who watched from within,
behind a safe boundary
of glass and stucco and timber,
jealously considering alternate theories
of creation of the universe,
dual roles,
observing guests and voyeurs,
prayed for ourselves,
desirous of his wishes granted,
swayed with him,
in flagrante delicto,
co-conspirators unseen,
but jailed,
behind protective walls of
glass and stucco and timber,
sotto voce confessing priest-worthy sins
while protesting their innocent knowledge
of a man's delightful craziness,
a distraction from
weeping brides

~

the parents posts to Facebook
pictures of children,
warily unaware that their favoritism
is slip showing

oh they favor the youngest son,
beautiful Joseph with many colored coats,
possessing the practiced cuteness
and skillfully employ how to manipulate it sweetly
on suspecting adults

the  eldest daughter,
unconsciously,
is the child made over
into a physical representation,
a manifestation of themselves preserved
as parents are wont to do
just because
they can
~
the swayer wedding guest
pray~dances to the tune of:

give over, her to me, to me,
to replant her unsuspecting
in garden wild,
feed her colors of her as yet unthought of,
foresee her aching beauty,
teach her freedom dancing by the sea,
weeping at her weeping
at her wedding
simpatico with her,
confusion and joy and fear

which is why the man sway dances
on the lawn at 6:00 am and weeps
copious bereft and joyous,
at the possibilities of conquering life
and foresees
the child wedding weeping
and weeps in anticipatory empathy sympathy
at their cojoined
kinship fate

~

a boy once told me he could feel my energies
and i asked him how that worked
and he said it was impossible to explain

since then I've been thinking of things that are impossible or impossible to explain

like the way teenage girls obsess over trying to get boys to fall in love with them or even just short bursts of favoritism from them rather than trying to find their way around the forest of little Yggdrasils that make up their own dispairing minds

or the way that stars and angels fall from their perches in the heavens (on accident (or on purpose)) and not many are able to see them for what they are (it's nigh inhuman to see someone for what they are) and how those same people who can peer into their heart of hearts seem to still fall in love with them (those dying stars, fallen angels, risen demons, broken supernaturalities) and their obvious failure at being what they were born to be (yes, there is such thing as failing at being what you are, many fail at being human (truly or at least believe they have) everyday, and as one of the the lowest on the echelon the only place we have left to turn to is death)

a boy once told me he could feel my energies
and i wont ask him how that could be true anymore
because i know it's impossible to explain but not impossible to do

because now i think of things that are thought of as impossible by all (by the majority of the sentient beings in this realm)

and i realize that there are many girls who have already conquered their mind forests but have determined that they are not brave enough to venture any further into the darker places so they turn to building gates of lust and ultimately building a castle of love to take refuge in and also that there is only this brief period of time between childhood and adulthood that the darkness pulls many in and forces them to explore and many are lucky to escape and only some fall fate to their more eldritch thoughts and decide to explore and few truly embrace it

and i realize that some people fall into broken, brittle love with a fallen angel or any exiled supernatural despite the fact that they have failed in everything that they were born to do and forced to live in this new reality, this ugly humanity. these people who are burdened with realizing that their new love will be unrequited and that their new love is not as new as they want to believe. it's as old as spacetime itself- lowly creatures falling for higher creatures that are just as low.

just like the boy who once told me that he could feel my energies
(and his fallen angel and his giving up of his soulheart to be hers if only for the while that it takes her to regrow her wings (i realized he wasn't focused on building castles of anything, but maybe a tower for her to lift off from, even if it meant she left him, she would be free (and he would follow her to freedom, i believe)))
just like how I'm trapped in the dead middle of my own mind trying to figure out whether i want to escape inward into the beautiful crumbling dark that awaits me or back out into the world where nobody will care that i returned from my own internality (because so did many of them (none of us are as special as we want to believe we are))

impossibility is impossible.

If the Messiah they need is a woman
Convince them only men are holy.

If the Messiah they need is black
Convince them only white is holy

If the Messiah they need is same gender loving or non-binary
Convince them only heterosexual is holy

If the Messiah they need is proud
Convince them only humility is holy

If the Messiah they need holds knowledge in their left hand
Convince them the right hand is holy

If the Messiah they need has a ten point plan of righteously defending one's self
Convince them that the only holy answer is nonviolence.

If they ever one day happen to believe that they can define:
Self
By Self
Through Self
Of Self
Convince them that holiness is only attainable through a message and belief of:
Holy and selective Prosperity
Holy and selective Favoritism
Holy and selective
Elitism

If they ever happen to look in the mirror and one day love all that they see
Convince them that the holy standards of beauty deems every and all that makes them what they are ugly

If they ever happened to one day realize that the Messiah that they need is within all of them as a United People
Convince them that the holy Messiah can only lay in one person per generation and then publicly assassinate the person that they believe
Or you have chosen
To be their
Messiah.

© Christopher F. Brown 2018