Lorenz

wild sarabande

A weariness akin to assigned surrender,

as the sand embrace the setting sun .

   last night walk .

Late night  talk .

This  world tilts ...

 I know not where my dwelling lies ,

at this hour of the space time loom, 

the heavens hold their  breath...

and no chariot remains to reach 

my celestial sphere ...

Lost within the architectonic grid of Mondrian .

A labyrinth of Kandinsky vivid lines ...

 post-lunatic insomnia after moon\'s descent .

Insignifiant observer  gazing upon a dormant  universe,

 Nameless object swept in a frenziest dance  

Before the eternal silence ,I seek but a fleeting  respite...

shall there remain in the ivory time  ,

a memory clinging to  my words  ?

 Sarabande that echoes my senses as the primal curse ?

I clash against the walls of lies ,

life haunted  by lawless street dogs ...

 Weirdest waltz of the spirits ,

orgiastic round of the hysterical princesses ,

those who beseech me to share their mornful rapture...

My footsteps wander into the contemplative urban chaos,

seeking certitudes in the mundane...

  Madness against a Mondrian -eske skyline 

or some foolish Kandinsky fancies ...

  serendipity  in a wild sarabande ! 

    Omnipotent  poet ...