Faint Shadow

Lay  with me as the water

begins to fall


Viscous as it hits our skin,

the taste shall e’er linger

upon our lips


What shall we speak of then

when these our altars are in



When our words are spoken

by others, who never understand

the cadence of our hymns


The sacred becomes ritualistic,

a faint shadow of our

faithful whim


The realisation embeds us in

the mire we made


A long time ago, what we

was ne’er ours to keep


Lifetimes that come with

no receipts, our dreams on a

loop until they are fulfilled


Shall we dance with those

suns our brothers

Shall we dance with the

moonlit planets


Here and then no longer.

All we ever did was chase

our butterflies

As those with,

devour us.


For Your life’s meaning is a


One You can’t catch without


Upon this daily basis, still ponder why

we’ll wonder out this door.


For Your life’s meaning is

but a butterfly. there’s

no catch without loss. Maybe

laying still I shall no longer

chase my own butterfly.


Fall asleep as clouds and sky

pass-over me.

Awaking, I stir the butterfly

upon me.


I say, say hold

this hand of mine

as we let go of

the lands before our eyes.


Close our lids

so slowly

I’m, I’m, um-um

We’re floating down


We’re floating down

Sinking into oblivion

There’s no art to the performance,

no performance to this art.

Only the audience.




A performance?

A show?

I read a few poems

written hours ago


Yet no word as each

second is more

valuable than another.


Each one equally

superfluous in its





On this and that stage there

are actors galore, though there

is no show nor performance.


All that awaits is the applause-less

curtain calls, there is no exit,

stage left nor stage right.


The fools play at the center]stage, upfront, their tongues

against that wall.


Moving from the


In the solitude of

the wellness


The materials

of pantheon

In making

a torrential metaphor



waves of an animal



Charter an age

from ageless





Dance ye

dames, ye


In your convoluted



Thine jest

of muses

As if upon

a stage


Mine, the

theatre of

fools and naive



A muttering

of the mute

that falls,

that only falls

upon these ears

of deaf spectators


A dance only

for the blind

To be understood

by the ignorant

and dumb

Felt only by the numb.