Helpless, Hopeless


An ethereal existence -
tenuous grasp of what is real;
for I cannot commit to life -
little here holds me to this place.

Her spirit ever projecting,
into me, the promise of hope -
that hope, my only sustenance;
loneliness brushes cold tendrils…

Humanity invades my heart,
playing upon strings long silent;
warmth permeates my cold being,
threatening to fill emptiness.

But I cannot bow to feelings,
or the pain of life will return -
opening old wounds, long closed;
the symphony will continue!

Despite all logic… I love her -
tragedy in which I rejoice;
stupidly I follow her on…
I cannot do anything else.

So hoping in my hopelessness,
and helping her in helplessness -
both ironic contradictions,
mock me, and my feelings for her.



(c) 2002 Robert H. Harrison