there is a revolution convulsing
seething, longing, conversing
of part-time rants, raves from solitude
of long walks and cerebral intercourse
a reason that breathes, a reason that yearns for meaning
there is a season that confounds, that profound
pieces of silver pennies that meld with ferrous scatter
the flightless bird claws the litter,
oh, what useless matter
prey she is, a pawn to nature's (t)reason
--
the nail rusts without a fight
it sinks deep to hide its plight
the slightest flick consumes the pile
orange hues dance to the wind's persistence
the ember will soon cease to glow
now the moon and stars seize the night, and warily stoop
look up and stand up to your volition
the cheshire cat smiled yet again, or is it a smirk?
and she would like the verdict.
###
No comments:
Post a Comment