The Messenger

The Messenger

This that I see before me shimmering in the light,

Has become my portion, my desire each day and night.

It appears to me from the edges of time,

Then it fades into the colors deep in my mind.

Come forth once more I’ve repeated again and again,

But it lingers beyond what’s seen, it gift to defend.

I can’t buy its time by offering some coin,

For it comes on its own in the night without discord.

Standing off in yon corner it watches and sighs,

For some word from me for it to come and abide.

Pricked by terror, tethered upon my bed,

I can only imagine its purpose swirling in my head.

“Be gone with you who have come to watch”,

A segment of my soul as I slumber on patchwork splotch.

Is it too much to ask if you’ll be visiting again,

Or is this the last time that you’ll appear to offend?

No words were forthcoming, not even a chuckle,

But it knew my secrets that caused my knees to buckle.

Fantasy figments fancifully filled to the brim,

Stories that terrify or mystify, causing readers to cringe.

“If not for this time in the stillness of the night,

When the house is silent, my heart ready to fight.

Then it must be for some tomorrow its gift to surrender,

To an old man filled with stories pages waiting to deliver.