Never to be so rash as to presume
Never to be so bold as to assume
Never to be so young as to think old
Never to be so old as to think young

Never to lie where I lay or lay where I lie
Never to live where I live nor where I die
Never to touch what beats beneath the desire
Never to be close to the feeding of the fire

Feel these things do I and more going fro and to
Once a pentacle towering in my own attitude of you
Now wandering in a wonderland of will versus able
Unsure of everything that was won around the coffee table

Short soft tight circles form the living dreams
Approaching the depth that cannot be filled
Guarded by two short walls of trembling petals
And by the loss of heart to the power of purpose

Stay away while you are so near to me
But stay near to as you start to flee
Charm me with your impulsive glances
As I wound you with my spears and lances

Say these things you do and more going to and fro
As you discard yesterday’s disheartened laborer and easily so
Are you as trapped as I in the wonderland that will denies
Or being sure that the servant serves until you decide
© 1997   Tim D. Coulter Sr.