The Siren Beyond
Oh, alluring frightener, you beckon to me.
I step forward, but I know I will never be yours.
Lover or lamia, sibyl or siren, ally or adversary, which do I call you?
I long to hear your heartbeat beside mine, as I explore the world.
I wish to hear your melodious voice, as I grow approach the rocks.
But I know I will never be yours.
No matter how many words I write.
No matter how many machines I design.
No matter how many kilometers I run.
No matter how many inventions I build.
No matter how many buildings I climb.
No matter how many strangers I help.
But deeds of mind, moral, and muscle are fleeting.
The tides and seasons between us are beyond antipodal.
My autumnal melancholy contrasts your springtime vivaciousness.
You dwell in the present moment.
I whimsically meander through the past and future.
I see the corpse clutching you, a draugr of dead days.
Its hollow eyes leer from its empty skull, laughing like a tomb-born echo.
Its talons sink into your flesh, dragging you under the waves.
But my outstretched hand goes unmet.