The Last String

You  are the last string
Attached to me
My  link to a world
Of sense, of sensibility
That drags my  attention
To companion,  duality,
Compromise.

All umbilicals
Bar you
Have drifted off,
Were  snapped rudely
From  me, or
Severed through by
My  own  hand.

So now  I float, still
Attached, but lightly
And  I am wooed
By soundlessness and
Slow motion  movement
Of distant stars, brilliant
In coldness they are
Vacuums   dark they
Suck at my  hope, thrill me
From  afar.

And  1 have to make this choice:
Now:  to be one, to not be
Where  you  are, detach your
Artery, disengage the lifeline
That keeps  me hanging on
To a non-existent
Dream  distracting
My  vision with images
Of bliss unreal, untrue.

I must kiss
The  cold glass
And  bid you gone; be
Alone  with my thought, my
Passion, to breathe and
Brood  and love and carry-
On  an attraction with
My  life's sphere, pursue
An  orbit of my own, no
Breathing apparatus
To  weigh me down.

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