Six young men stood before,

The big machine, impressionable.

There to walk the scholar’s line,

And dare not miss a beat in time.

Their strong backs, stiff and straight,

Looked to those with powers great,

To guide their lives like little maps,

And mark their points with golden tacks.

But who upon their lives did call,

A man who challenged one and all.

To seize the day as lovers do,

To see beyond what once thought true.

Their minds now sang with leaping thoughts,

And their hearts raced with newfound lust.

Imagination found its way,

Into six open windows that day.

But in a tragic turned event,

Wicked pride with no relent,

Slammed one window shut, such force.

And this poor soul so lost his course.

He died from a broken heart,

Wrenched from embrace, his love for art.

He lost her that cold blustery night,

Without her, he chose instead to die.

From that point on, all things grew worse,

Compounding in a growing curse.

Curtains quickly drawn to block,

The sunlight that was believed to mock,

The machine’s methodic clock.

And thus these five surrendered hearts,

Returned to their determined parts.

Lured by old voice reliant,

Back to a still compliance.

But in one corner, stray sunbeam peeked,

Around the curtain so to seek,

Her captain, oh my captain there!

And now enlightened room aware,

Awoke, aroused with valiant stare.

Six young men stood before,

The big machine, now somehow small.

There to walk desire’s line,

And dare not miss a beat in time.

Genevieve Hoskey

September, 2009

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