James Walter Orr
(Obsessed Times Two)
The puny mind of man can soar
beyond confining skies;
yet bring the turmoil to the fore,
the peaceful view belies.
Why can I not compose the words
that name my heart's desire?
Why must I crawl, while soar the birds?
I struggle in the mire.
The tangled web that traps each thought
embedded in my soul,
holds back the words that I have sought
that might define my role.
Oh, how I long to bridge the gap
that lends your body pain!
I seek so to disarm the trap
that lets the darkness reign.
Would that I could extend my hand
across my clumsy void
of dreams composed of shifting sand,
before I am destroyed.
Oh, let me be the one vaccine;
your one and only cure;
the bulwark you can place between
you and what you endure.
Why can I not compose the song
that names my body's needs,
while flows the spring that sweeps along
the things on which it feeds?
Desire and warmth that linger there
in heaven's own attire,
and in whose name I must not err.
It's that, I must acquire.
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