A Penchant for Parables

well past midnight
no sleep , just a lull
of mixed-up views
my twisted heart
beats slowly , perhaps
that explains the slothfulness
of my thoughts, so many
different colors to study
they drip and blend
into one another
creating yet , one more
I spent my life in pastels
instead of tasting reds
or passionate purples
I wander through the earth-tones
resonating their own worldliness
rooted in conservative browns
emanating the theosophy of creation

I come sadly to the realization
that I am not the moon
my name unknown amongst the stars
no amount of love or chastity
can compete with the optical fantasies
of the moon on a dark night

I would need a book
to teach me the pleasures
forbidden a Carmelite nun
perhaps wealth & notoriety
are the first and second mates
on this journey of musings
in a search for the golden fleece

But, I for one have no dreams
no set desires to suffocate new love
before conception
It's the moon's light that blinds one
from seeing past the illusion,
concealing an inability to create life within itself,
colorless

It is a blessing then , that I am not. . . . .. . .
the moon

karina klesko