The Looking

I did not look for her.

She traveled on horseback in my dreams, soared into my embrace, laughing.

I did not look for her.

She rode my passion away into steaming wild jungles, blurring my body with hers.

I did not look for her.

She cried for me on whirling mountain tops in the morning, dreams ended, the cards folded, and

I did not look for her.

I cried for her in dead, dead deserts.

Perhaps she looked for me.

I never saw her, I never saw her.

I sat waiting on a cold throne of my own design,

in the spider palace I made,

strings and cans and pots and pans,

oh I sat waiting,

and I did not look for her.

and this, this is the hardest to say,

that even given a second turn,

I know I would fail once again,

I know, I know,

I would not look for her.