Romancing the lion

There is truth to writing. It hides in the powers of metaphors but it is naked, nonetheless. It awakens the dragon- sleeping in the dungeons of the past, sometimes, the princess that you were- kissed, and cajoled, in the towers of a, now, deserted castle.

I wanted to write that I want to hibernate but, hide, where? It is tempting to get lost in the word hibernate.

Volcanic emotions erupt and try to mock my libertarian sensibilities. They tell me that I am in the same mudflow where I was, some sort of, aeons ago. They sell the drama, and I try hard to be apathetic as if the heart is no impulsive buyer.

But there is truth to the music playing in the background and I am lured to buy it. Sarah Mclachlan claims innocence though I would not know if she was acquitted but I hope…I hope she made it- whatever that means.    

               my soul is touching yours

               in a bed of empty lies

               our roses are red

               the blush of Eden once again

               our souls are parched

               the music is damp

               my feet and your feet

               the dance can’t stop

               you play on my strings

               and I am  your little lyre

               you are my old flute

               and I blow your breath

               lost, lost in the Parnassian

               …my soul escapes

                                                           8/02/07; 12:50 pm; Background Music: A Case of You- Joni Mitchell