Then, after the ending was this;
perpetual continuing in spite of it.
Hallucinations manufactured by reality
in the disturbing quiet of it, until,
first little river that comes around
washes me along with it where it is headed,
wishing me strong enough to endure its wandering.
Before long it and I will be gone, evaporated.
Me, the classic sucker for a pretty face,
conquistador of forgotten charisma,
until that got to be so out of place, me;
deranged as only a fool can be.
Sifting too long through alleged evidence
has marked me as an inventor with fraudulent patent,
warrior with a fraudulent sword
pulling away layers of thin skin.
Getting not close enough to where cognitive energy is stored.
Yet, I stood in a spot where mind's eye was filled,
where the tangled felled trees accused me of being simple.
So, still, if I am to be left with only one skill;
let it be to be awed.
-
Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: August 11th, 2024 00:34
- Comment from author about the poem: This after a walk in my favorite Metropark where thinking seems so much easier.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: aDarkerMind
Offline)
Comments3
Life and poems full of paradoxes and this poem has a few. Very nice to engage the mind and reader. The opening started this way. The ending I loved. It implies that life would be boring if one were not able to be awed. Lovely
a very impressive write Dam.
your opening line took me in,
and what followed was even better.
one to favour...
Not sure what is dark about your mind. Thank you anyway.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.