On The Border Of Lust And Love

On The Border Of Lust And Love ( A Recollective Confession of Lloyd Charles, An Anglo -Saxon Preacher)
And so, because the child was wrapped in a cocoon of dreams, Her mind hell - bent in following the drumbeats of adventure, Which, like an unrelenting typewriter, Tapped the script yet to unfold, A mystery of tomorrows. I stood with a flag tied to my prick, Swearing on ten stacks of Bibles and by Eternity's name That I would never leave her. And so on I followed to the border of lust; of love; Or wherever the tide might lead me. I swore by the God of the heavens and Lucifer below And again I swore by heavens name For a lust fanned by alcohol's insidious charm. Now, many years later, having followed to the border of lust, of love Or wherever the tide has led me, The mad rush has grown quiet And the inner room made clean for recollection I neither remember her name nor the sight of her, The adventure now past At this time barely a memory, Like an unmarked grave in Potters field; a stone with no name Crying out from chambers of dream and of mind I've long been forgotten, I've long been forgotten And as the shadows ceased wailing, only the present survived With so many mountains to climb, so many more rivers to swim I found love's mysterious power to create someone In the image of someone they're not How many more times must I cross the border again? � 1993 Frank Cadillac

On The Border Of Lust And Love
( A Recollective Confession of Lloyd Charles,
An Anglo -Saxon Preacher)

And so, because the child was wrapped in a cocoon of dreams,
Her mind hell - bent in following the drumbeats of adventure,
Which, like an unrelenting typewriter,
Tapped the script yet to unfold,
A mystery of tomorrows.
I stood with a flag tied to my prick,
Swearing on ten stacks of Bibles and by Eternity's name
That I would never leave her.
And so on I followed to the border of lust; of love;
Or wherever the tide might lead me.
I swore by the God of the heavens and Lucifer below
And again I swore by heavens name
For a lust fanned by alcohol's insidious charm.
Now, many years later, having followed to the border of lust, of love
Or wherever the tide has led me,
The mad rush has grown quiet
And the inner room made clean for recollection
I neither remember her name nor the sight of her,
The adventure now past
At this time barely a memory,
Like an unmarked grave in Potters field; a stone with no name
Crying out from chambers of dream and of mind
I've long been forgotten, I've long been forgotten
And as the shadows ceased wailing, only the present survived
With so many mountains to climb, so many more rivers to swim
I found love's mysterious power to create someone
In the image of someone they're not
How many more times must I cross the border again?

� 1993 Frank Cadillac