Stir the Scene

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by EternalHunter, Jun 15, 2006.

  1. EternalHunter

    EternalHunter Member

    After the dust had
    it became apparent that
    no amount of destruction could
    layer and soften the pain
    with a cushion of dove grey silica.

    Even in broken pieces those pieces
    dwelt whole in the mind,
    charging through the foamy waters
    of muddled memory

    like a silver trout
    giving only
    fleeting glimpses
    of his shy side, a sunlight
    reflection, bouncing back
    to blind the eyes.

    It was a moth, grey with
    granite wings,
    addicted to the blaze of flame,
    that brought me back.

    Through the maze of arteries of stone cold
    hearts I could point and
    say 'it is not enough.'

    As it freed me I
    caged it captive on a silver string,
    amazed at tiny feathered face.
    It had the grace of a teacher
    in disguise a guru bowing down to me.

    It left dust on my wings
    and broken
    legs on my finger tips.

    Still I stole a glance at what was left,
    ever reticent,
    approaching the end.
    There are no happy endings.

    With lungs perfumed with
    mica chips,
    toxic asbestos of a
    past unreconciled,

    I strolled through the crumbled foundation,
    strove to right align the
    fallen forms of my imagination,
    paused at a pile
    transformed into a
    dancing David
    doe-eyed in the endless rock garden.

    He stood next to the fish pond,
    infamy now, only as a perch
    for hungry birds.

    It was the leaf that stopped me.
    Under this dismal wreckage
    a small weed of life
    trembled and breathed
    light, and softly folded
    taking flight
    on the metallic wings of wind.

    To the north my eyes flew
    haphazardly, unused to
    the aerodynamics of blue sky.

    There dwelt love--
    mortal enemy of sanity, slain,
    dueling sword
    clasped in both hands.

    It is too much to think
    the blood of his enemy
    went unspilled.

    And I awoke to find
    it was a dream to which
    waking did not stir the scene.
  2. sylvanlightning

    sylvanlightning Prismatic Essence

    Excellent, awesome work, I love it. :)
  3. EternalHunter

    EternalHunter Member

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