Analysis of An Introspective Journey

The doors of chance are closing fast,
    Time of choice will soon be past.
Decisions made are set forever,
    Retracing paths will happen never.

I do not know how this has come. Seems I awake one day and the world has been recreated overnight.
An endless parade of parts in a play….of which I am not the author. Apparent that it is my task only to act,
to perform simply in Faith that Destiny has some Design. What do I do then? In some respects it is repetition….I seem to find myself in this place all too often.

A curious calm she brings,
    Peace to my Soul when she sings.
My headlong rush is quietly halted,
    By her smiles I am soothed and exalted.

Helplessly drawn her words I must heed,
    From chains and shackles of doubt I am freed.
Perhaps it is nothing but wishful delusion….
    Misinterpreted lines and erroneous conclusion.

What is it I expect from this? What do I want? Or is it only what I hope to find? Introspection….At times an oddly unsatisfying quest. The answers are there…no real mystery to those, I suppose. Yet, these things within myself seem insignificant when I am led to wonder the same things of her. Queries are oft met with unfathomable smiles and indecipherable laughs, with enough substance however to send my imagination reeling with perceived implications and apparent suggestion. Ah…..delicious she is with subtleties. And I am certain she knows what she does.
    Which inspires me to greater speculation…..

This very day there was a thing,
    Offhand remark with an ironic ring,
Words from my writing that she had used,
    Left us both feeling somewhat amused.

What are the odds of such circumstance?
    I wonder did it really happen by chance?
Or do I read too much between the lines?
    And embellish it further in poems and rhymes.
Would she say my mind is much too frantic?
    That I confuse the mundane with being romantic?

It occurs to me though there is a solution,
    No need to flounder in needless confusion.
Ask of her what is it that she would say?
    “Paint me a picture, your feelings portray”.

Alas…she can not do this I fear.
Life's complications as a wall do appear.

I see many difficulties. Giving herself to Love could be a greater burden than living without it. Easy enough, perhaps, for me, with my eccentric insensibilities, to throw myself from the precipices of Possibilities. And to gather my shattered bones from the depths of Failure…taking no heed of criticism. But what of her? There are responsibilities she has which humble me. Considerations she entertains which leave me weak in the knee and flutter my heart. Even to say simply (simply ?) “I love you too” would be momentous. An utterance the ripples and echoes of which could never cease. So few words and sometimes so easily spoken. Yet they would turn her world around.
    Or…..would she welcome the Precipice too? These
Things I must consider….Not only the plucking of my own heart's strings, but, also, the harmonies carried by the strings of two.

Our lives are seldom our own, but are inextricably intertwined with those near.
We do well to account for what they must hear.

This then do, O Snare of my Soul.
    Save thyself from the Waters flow.
Harden thy heart, turn away thy face.
    Remove thyself from the grief of this place.

Do not be troubled should I go down,
    Willingly gladly in Love will I drown.
What I have known with you in this life,
    Is worth many times the struggle and strife.

And should I have known you but for a while,
    Never will I think of you without a smile.
Your beauty and elegance, eyes and your face,
    The ravages of time shall fail to erase.

Rue not those things you feel you must do,
    My redemption is purely in having loved you.

copyright@2004 A Collection of the Works of A. Dale Ambers
Not to be reproduced in any manner without permission from the author.