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
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First published in Opinions Of Eye
 

 

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.