Sestina

Sestina: Black Habits

Somewhere between passion and pain the aim of expression is love
Whether aching or yearning, there's a longing and burning desire
That tires only when the opportunity to exist is suppressed
In it's chest dwells the hallows of hope
Like a dope fiend feenin for welcoming arms,
It's hard choosing the unknown comfort and care over the passion of a habit

We have gotta have it habits
The smell of new things, sounds of cash machines, and touch of receipts have replaced the love

Of hearing the birds sing, the scent of spring, the sight of the leaves outstretched arms
Blooming toward the clouds. Heaven's touch is their only desire.
They can't reach higher. We don't reach higher, not even for hope.
Promise fades away like smoke, simply so it can not be suppressed

What gives reality it's power is not the potential to suppress
But the ability to repress and be pressed so our existence is simply our habit
There's no pain or passion, no sadness or laughing, we're actors in our hopes
So our hearts fall heavy because we long to love
Long to feel, long to breathe, long to achieve our souls' desire
But why, when we're we shrugging our shoulders with unsure arms

Our heats our armed
Like the armor of dueling knights, so our movement is suppressed
Pressed in the depths of our heads ignoring the cries of desire
I make a habit
Of candid gestures to best serve the passion of love
With rations of some form of faith, but a long way from the essence of hope

All we needed in life was a glimpse of hope
All we needed in life was our fathers arms
All we needed in life was our nation's love
All we needed in life were our addictions suppressed
That's manifest in a form stronger than desire

Without suppressing the expression of love,
My desire is to embrace hope with open arms
And free myself from the demons of habit.