Remnants –

“Love. Of course, love. Flames for a year, ashes for thirty.”
― Giuseppe di Lampedusa, The Leopard

“The fire which seems extinguished often slumbers beneath the ashes.”
― Pierre Corneille

ineluctablewords

The dreams you thought should happen

they never came to be

The plans spent in the night pursuing

disappeared unseen

With shattered glass under your feet

precious things undone

In a foreclosed heart your hiding

thinking shadows won

Fears your always one forgotten

on thirsty ground

Thunder is heard in cloudy darkness

stirring ashes found

Remnant future slain in jest

giving life to plains

Revelation in the reaching bolts

healing of the shame

*

First published in Opinions Of Eye

 

 

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Beginning of the End

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring 

dirty-irish

Translucent skin showing the paths of life that will cease to flow

Blue and gray replace the young countenance and own the deterioration

Halting the movements of grace, becoming a lame gait of an ambling fall

This is the prognostication of our demise and the fate’s without escape

What’s left when the seasons change and we’re left without shelter?

The things leave and nothing’s left but an empty mind

Where are the riches spent entertaining the needs of vanities clients

The evaporation leaving only the crumbling idols built by youth

Mortal Dance – Engage the Pack

“What we think of as our sensitivity is only the higher evolution of terror in poor dumb beasts. We suffer for nothing. Our own death wish is our only real tragedy.” – Mario Puzo

itsraininguniverse

As I listen, my music carrying me away, I feel death circling. A thousand shards of ice sharp pain brings me its gifts of gray emotion. Inevitably sunrise comes, in spite of my night loving wishes. A blank stare possesses my eyes, and life leaves. Can I be dead and alive at the same time? Is this what’s wrong? Am I trying to move rigor mortised limbs? If feelings are dead, is the blood running warm and blue any life at all? It’s like nothing matters when you look over that edge. I want to peek, to glimpse at what’s beyond. Is this what predators sense? That I flirt with death and sleep restlessly for want of it? They surround my camp with fire lit eyes. I see them jumping, ducking in and out of the light, playing with me, afraid to rush in too quick. One tugs at me, yanking my leg to see if I move. I gasp, pushing away the comfort of mortality to engage the pack. It’s the fight that brings me back to life. Until then there’s no reason, but when the enemies come, that, that is why I live, only to fight. Men have ruined everything else in my life but this I control. When it’s time, I will bring death to myself, no one else will take that privilege.