Phoenix Rising ~ Philip Brent
Bartholomew Mathew
Cannot decide
Tangled in social metaphor
Smiling snide remarks
Too knowing asides
Yearns for freedom
From his shabby garret
His plush penthouse
Can he escape
Fly away
Will he try
Ensnared in darkness
His shadow’s umbra
Anticipates crisis
Steps and turns
Life’s dance marathon
His daily rumba
Sudden, explosive
Will he be
Still standing
Can he win the prize
Without taking a chance
Misunderstood
Costume party
With reservations
Masked, no invitation
No exit appears
Then
Shock, surprise
Stabs, strikes
His eyes
Sparkling shards
Glitter ball reflections
What can he see
Blindfolded, he
Teeters, balances
Friable soil crumbles
He stumbles, stops
Opens his eyes
To rescue himself
Beholds
His sweetly mirrored
Self, vision echoes
His smile
Quietly she stands
Contained, alone
Her radiance
Illuminates
Unknown terrain
Vast expanse
Varnished loft floor
Too slippery
For his steps
He turns away
She weeps
He stays, backward glance
Reveals sparkling eyes
Beckoning
What odds, his reckoning
A raging tango
Swiftly flowing
Fandango, complex
Careful quick steps
He skirts
Dense quicksand
Pile of the carpet
Sticky barroom floors
Crackling peanut shells
Snap underfoot
He pauses
Noticed
Exposed
To unknown
Unseen dangers
Strangers
Until
She becomes light
Transfixed, he stands
Understands
How she is bathed
In bright sun’s rays
On the darkest night
In pearlescent moonbeams
In deep-desert noon
Impossibility of unravelling
His Gordian knot
No equations
Calculations
He reaches out
She stands so near
As close as galaxies
As far away as
Love’s first kiss
His the decision
Risk to try
Does he, can he
Dare the outcome
Their gazes lock
And, in one leap
He is free
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