invertendo man

-- dead forms and rituals like labels cannot keep pace with Truth as its revelations are always roiling and writhing Beauties for eyes that see and change for Hearts with wings of why that fly in rhythms rising on thermals of wonder to the farther sky --

Death looks from within my eyes --
neither attracted nor repelled,
a life lived, all things come and go,
but this I know, death looks through my eyes,
isn't it so - I shall pass by.

Always going, never to arrive,
a surging urge,
a wavelet amongst waves,
crashing on a stony cragged shore,
foaming white waters, falling, spent and nevermore --

I will play the bones to make my blood sing
Poetic mysteries as my tears write earthen histories
washed in the ink of this pen,
a fluid flowing heart all over again:
an ancient echo, a longing ache in bones that lay awake --

As an idiot staring at forever,
profoundly dumb,
without but within,
neither compelled by mediocrity
nor attracted by individuality --

Awash in an ocean
ever blowing in a veritable wind;
inscrutably peregrinated then --

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

compelling, articulate writing here. I tend to run screaming at the thought of death...not very accepting of the inevitable...but this poem treats the subject matter with integrity and grace. Well done.