Grain

What pain it is to not know what you want,
What torture not to know your deep desires.
Therefore this apparition, lean and gaunt,
Threatening a host of hellish fires
Is nothing but a gaudy toy, compared
To inner anguish which invokes more fear.
How different might it be if you had dared
To think...but this is not the place, not here.
Here in this haunted world we cannot speak.
Instead we fill forever with dumbshows
Ignoring what we really ought to seek
And waiting for the music at the close.
Then, only then, will we pass on past pain
And speak, to see if our desires remain.