yes . . .
yes i was intoxicated
by my delusions
and the sweet taste
of it’s temporal euphoria
like the child
who suckles upon the fair flowers
of Spring Honeysuckle,
i wanted more
so i was driven to pluck
the lovely scented blossoms
from the vine of source
for my own pleasures
i was inebriated
by my own reason,
yet i found no reconciliation
that lasted,
save the memory
and now i smile
with a abysmal reverence
for those sacred days
whose ways
offered to this child
such a cherished respite
which i still cling to
as i search
for that Flower of my Childhood
© 8 October 2012 : william s. peters, sr.
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