Night of Passage    (Prelude to The Bastard)


Are the words she said gone forever now from me?
Did that warm reality fade and die with the memory?
It was every bit as real as that bed I awoke to
Years beyond the scope of my life
Enriching yet killing so many hopes and dreams

Does any of this matter?
Or will I wake from this and tell others how beautiful all of you were?
Will this very moment be dismissed as rememberances of a dreaming mind?
How will I descibe you?
Think on that.
When the next "Real" people wait to dismiss you
Pretending to listen, and humoring me as I tell of a world that can't possibly be

When all that we have done and said is delegated to a single night of fantacy
And I am expected to know what's real
Expected to discard out of hand what you would have me take for granted
And ridiculed for loving so deeply phantoms from a world of memory

This is mine.
What you call the hand that feeds I bite as it tries to take from me
What you will never know and I may never be

And I can't shrink within myself like that novel world upon your shelf
Which you so painstakingly conquered and labeled
You drew your borders and now you think you know mine