Tenacity

The World is dying
around us as we risk
Contagion, while I pull
her destiny from my deck.
"You're future is up
to you Jewels;” I say,
“you know
what you've done—
laid the groundwork,
built the foundation,
all driven
by the power
of unfulfilled lust,
laced with pure wit,
undying persistence,
& mad perspicacity!"

There is no rod,
no staff to comfort her;
she must rise, alone,
to meet the challenge,
& she leaves me awed
in her renewed glow,
a shine so bright
I can't even look at her
directly, I can only cast
askance glances,
because she is everything
I want, but nothing
I can have.

She wants a warrior,
& I am but a simple poet—
The Fool, falling again,
yet again, never caring,
knowing it never matters
how far I fall, I always land
on my feet. I make words,
not wars, but her soldier
is POWed, a prisoner
of poor states
& even poorer
circumstances.

But when The World
is dying, when destiny
is threatened by fate
& folly, exceptions
must be made. So
we end up naked
on her sleigh,
ready to face
The End
together.

The End,
with rules:
I cannot touch
The Jewels;
I do not need to;
her presence is enough.
It's enough to feel her
firmly tucked into my nook,
enough to feel her feel
secure enough to sleep
there soundly.

Where there is enough Love,
nothing else matters.

The End
is all in our heads,
but sometimes
you have to pretend—
Nothing's ever over,
but Death is still a diva
when she's striking down
en masse,
when she's put The World
on blast,
when you have everything
to lose, but no one
to lose it with.

So, in the end,
I end up alone,
lounging
on my orange throne,
listening to The World
dying on every channel,
haunted
by faint memories,
echoes of our time
together, ghosts
of what may have been,
had Jewels preferred poets
to warriors,
Lovers to fighters,
Truth to power.

She holds all
the power she needs,
after all. Perhaps,
once Jewels can see
the potency
of her own shine,
she will allow me
the honor
of being consumed,
utterly devoured,
by her glorious light!

Fernando Quijano III