Falling Poem by Stuart Logan

A sancrosanct decadence,
further than the maturities of the little ones.
I watch them run about,
Carefree,
Oblivious to the post apocolyptic Hell around them.
Tears fall,
I walk past them,
They only add to my anger.
Purity and malevolence within the one soul.
However charred and blackened.
Freely, I wander, waiting and hoping for change.
I want a new life,
One where I am immune to the Cupid's virus.
That once spread across my heart,
Like a sickening shadow,
casting an eclipse over rational emotion.
Nothing has changed,
Yet all is different.
I see with new eyes.
I am free but falling.
Falling from whatever grace I obtained many a year ago.
So now I understand that my life holds a different purpose,
To what I expected,
Yet I cannot make the transition,
It is too late.
I observe the golden moon,
Like a ring falling down a drain.
The diamond glints from the little light under the preternatural darkness.
I fall,
But I know I shall land safely.
And new thought will spur me through the sacriligious night.

'We all can fall from grace. But the only difference is who lands safely.'

S, Logan-10/9/08