Once
Cocksure
Of what I’d thought I’d wanted

Imagining
Objects
of My desire
under some
Self-serving Svengali’s spell

I realized
that What I’d thought I wanted
Had become
The Bone
of The Dogs
Of which
We hear tell

Clutching closely
Mere consideration of
Reluctancy’s relaxing grip
Acknowledging Bone’s
Undeniable potential
Of wielding greater power
Over me
than I over it

Within queasy
Ready reach
of Its devouring Seductive Essence
the Bone stole away
in the deep of the night
leaving unspoken
but the hollow callous frank
of abandonment’s
Numbing
indifference

The years then did pass
17 to be exact
Until the dog understood What had happened
that What he had wanted
had Changed in his sleep
by Unknown
& Mystical
intercession

Wantonly driven
by Hero’s need,
to Achieve
self-Authentication
in as Fleeting
a thought’s moment
as the Rhythmic
Flutter-Humming bird’s wing,
lighted a
Potent
transforming
Intuition

Pondering
the Years of
Unbridled
lofty
Ambition
with Assuredly its ensuing angst,
Wasted moments
Wishful clinging
to a Bullish
canine Claw reunion
with his
Delightfully
Ossified
Juggernaut friend

Now
I
Know
the time is past
for Hubris
& unchecked klingen
like the final fatal bite
Of the honey bee’s
sting
the bones
of the Dog
Lie
Far Beyond the Crush
of his one last grasp
At self-deceiving