A Fine Point

- jan-u-wine
T'is a nice point.....
a fine
point.
 
T'is our saving
that It
holds captive
naught
but your
will.
 
Your thoughts
live,
still,
somehow,
shuttered
in the closed rooms
of your mind......
 
It has not
yet
entered there.......
 
no.....
 
It has
not.....
 
for then
It
would know
(if It could
wind
itself,
an evil vine,
through
that which
dwells
beyond the empty
ruin
of your eyes),
it would
KNOW
where its will
were leading
the both
of you.
 
And then the smallness
of your life
would end.
 
It does not know.
 
If it were not
all
so grim,
so
endlessly
barren of laughter,
I might
smile.
 
I have watched It
fill you,
consume you,
until It
drives the slow beat
of your heart,
twists the light
from your
eyes,
bends
your legs,
even,
into mere
things
tied to
the curved dark
of Itself.
 
It does not know
where
those steps,
stuttering
with weary
purpose,
go.
 
Somewhere,
I
do find a smile:
 
a smile
turned inwards
by despair.
 
We may yet win.
 
That same
blind
desire,
that very poison
which leaks
from It
to you,
will carry you both
to joint
destiny.