I no longer feel to voyage on, since I no longer feel

I no longer feel to voyage on this silver pathway

That is no pathway but a rutted track that steers the wheel

On a golden course where only dark shadows play.

And I know that once upon this path, largely for others' needs,

This chariot will charge forward with this form

(Only the body travels now)

And I will not stop nor even slow these steeds.

 

Totenfeier fades, its thunderclaps resound.

One last step down, his baton toward the ground

Maazel maestro breathless hangs his head

An endless aching silence crowns

A warrior's submission, that very moment dead.

 

Do you go to the theatre much? a screech owl of a woman

turned to ask me at a cocktail party once.

I never seem to be able to get out of the damn place, I replied.

She took offence and took off. No great loss.

But here I am again.

 

Once at the ridgepole of this spinning world,

I saw smiling and hopeful eyes.

Now I am the Sacrificed, not Sacrificer.

No longer High Priest but an infirm prize.

And the eyes above these masks cut cold.

No need to manage expectations.

Spare me the prologue, I'm sold.

 

Is it cowardice or even traitorous to go

Gentle, peaceful, and not fall fighting,

One pathway not taken, another door not opened,

Allowing the fragile flower's sap to offer solace,

Knowing that there is no rose-garden?

Must I hold the line 'til a bitter end?

No, not now for me to struggle and to rage

Dazzled on this cold and sterile stage.

 

Enough hope to hang myself, a hope not ever sure.

Because I know I can no longer hope to journey on

To where hope lies, the lure of cure.

Knowing well the pathway I help cut, the terrors beyond,

Gauging probabilities, help me to forget

The actuarial numbers and the truths in all our trials.

While all anecdotal evidence must be ignored.