Are(n't) You, Incerto?

By A.J.R. Mennon

Through Day and Night’s fabric woven

My Form, by all felt, yet seen by none.

Aeons fail to scathe me, as I remain unseen…

are you the one riddling my Heart’s eye

littering qualms over all that might’ve been

or what could yet be?

Impossible are my implications to descry

You may try, but in my bosom deep, a black box I bury.

then why chain my chest still, flittering about

playing your hand from the nothingness throughout?

Who doesn’t relish retreats and returns like sea waves?

but why relish, in mazes dire, to enslave

our most curious and innocent gaze?

As if You could marry Innocence and Curiosity!

Where Fast Reason resolves, cracks I can see;

Why mustn’t I dance amid your crafty certainties?

is that why despite our crusades, to rid your trace

wedding Time and Fate, these, you utterly disgrace?

for the more we vie to reduce your relevance

the wider your wings beat, with fury and with vengeance.

But riches unknown too, in moments, don’t I reveal?

Now and again, for you, I’ve incinerated Chance’s wheel.

yet our grasp, ever you let slip, from finality’s hilt;

you harbinger of possibility donning peril

you merchant of peril donning possibility.

Do I alone lust to plunder and enslave?

Have you not seen me reward in their faith

Those that learn a sober solace in me?              

just those, whose iron bellies will have you…

and those who, in dire terrors of you bathe?

aren’t they, from blistering blows, bound to be bruised? 

I do not discriminate; I toy with All alike!

and arresting you within: that trickiest of tasks

specially so, as you soar and prance with no respite.

Save for a moment I ceded, to dance with you, when I...

…glimpsing Fortune’s fitful spiral, blissfully basked

in its fickle eye, I saw I, ascend and glide;

In your black box then, did I poke a hole of light?

to uncover, to unleash you haste without grasp; here’s a warning—

But…but in that one dance…your cowled reins as a leash

I held, didn’t I?! To the chains choking my own wings

Are(n’t) you yourself, that shy key?

By A.J.R. Mennon