Illusory Cure Poem by James Walter Orr

Illusory Cure

Oh woman, unknown, save within my fancy:
envisioned in illusions born from passion:
exposed to perils of imagination:
you sail unsheltered waters of my soul.
Each crumb of love you feed my starving psyche,
nourishes the beasts, within my bosom:
yet, you may walk among them, for the music
of your soul serves to tame each savage beast.

How breed the seeds of hope and the redemption
of possibilities that spring, unbidden,
and grow the throes of some perceived conception:
those images that are so deeply hidden.
Emotions, suited well for consolation,
are bitter-sweet, for also bring temptation.

The surf, with ceaseless seething from the oceans,
can parallel the turbulence that’s surging:
that sings the siren's songs that oft assail me,
in synchronous assaults that strip my armor.
The softest touch, serene, unsullied, soothing,
engendered by the thoughts that you’ve projected,
can calm tempestuous torrents, the upheavals,
of longings in my soul, so long unfettered.

Sometimes it’s chance and not design that tenders
solutions to enigmas that have haunted.
Confronting all that time and nature renders,
we walk what path we walk, and walk undaunted.
Serenity that flows from such foundation,
might serve, in time, as key to one’s salvation.
©2009