Ace Of Black Hearts
Overcoming The Fear
What if it is not ego?
But faceless facts we come to accept.
The cars wheel goes, and you have no cell phone, no jack, no spare tire.
No life line in all metaphors of speaking.
Just a lonely long walk, with a wish for some company along the way.
If I don't get it that is okay.
I been doing this long enough.
That I expect to be treated as ghost.
Just another passerby.
We don't know each other.
But maybe we could.
Words to a opening.
A proper introduction.
And we are still asking who am I?
As if a name will suffice.
What is it we are trying describe?
A body that moves, a mouth that speaks, a attentive ear that listens, or a sensitive skin that feels?
Maybe we should skip it all together.
And get down to what we are really interested in.
What connection of attraction is it that brings me to you?
Is it a pretty face, intelligent words, a happy go lucky personality, a sexual desire?
Back somewhere in the mind there is hand reaching out just for you to touch mine.
A lack of love unkind.
A window in which to see the possible future of the divine.
Is each move we make is it another pitiful mistake?
Can anybody even relate?
After all isn't that what we all are looking for.
The commonness of existence in such a quaint way.
A tally of hurt and pain among the senses that leave us feeling less than ordinary.
Give me confidence, give me fire.
Walking down the wire 20 feet up in the air.
Despair, what if I slip, what if I fall.
Who will be there to catch me, stop me from breaking every single bone?
Becoming another splat on the pavement.
That is the fear we must overcome each and everyday.
Because risk, and luck is where we all will always live.
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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