Emptying the debris of dreams.
I undersatand that this life of mine
has so little direction but I continue
to empty the debris of dreams and
day to day experiences
asking
What is there of value?
What is there that comes to light
in this sanctuary of mine
festooned in holy plants
and sacred flowers,
each
a daily recipe of dying leaves
and stems
coloured autumn brown and gold
resembling the whiskey that
pumps around my reddened heart
flaming
as I watch for sparks
to purge myself, observing
as floating smoke ascends slowly
through my chimney, just
like more water flowing..flowing
under the the bridge as
shadowy lovers leave their ridge
and night turns even blacker
knowing
my body must sleep, my ghost
to slowly wander through
all my errors of judgement
as night's moon becomes a searchlight
peering into the tombs of a resurrected
Christ,
Hitler and Che Guevara, the latter
who took to the gun to kill our sorrows
and where our alters
of note, cynical power and abuse
fell into a deep desolate disuse.
Let the past die and awake bold future
and walk through the portals
of blossoming hope.
Do I hear the voice of moving water
but know
the Styx and the Lethe
are gone
A Rubicon will become our place to stop
so
God, if there is one, give to us
the courage and vision where men
need not just be safe but may find
that stream that flows in infinite seclusion
not secret .. not threatening but
rippling watery wreaths
radiating reflecting the dim hues
of transparent depths, as stroke
by stroke
we count the plunges of oars
and our boat, our silver beast
moves onwards, always moving onwards
to other shores. always going on beyond.
Free Forum Hosting
Important Announcement
First 