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

ruins

 

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

butterfly.

One You can’t catch without

killing.

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.

 

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Three

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

insignificance.

 

Anyway.

Six

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.

Seventeen

Moving from the

solace

In the solitude of

the wellness

 

The materials

of pantheon

In making

a torrential metaphor

 

Side-stepping

waves of an animal

nature

 

Charter an age

from ageless

moan

 

 

xxv.

Dance ye

dames, ye

thoughts

In your convoluted

gest’

 

Thine jest

of muses

As if upon

a stage

 

Mine, the

theatre of

fools and naive

thrones

 

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.