endless night

semiotics and zen

words elude my breaking sight,

dream, and dreams of forms

bear might. 

built and forged upon the light, now -

it fails, consumed by night.

aloof the babe at mother breast,

forged a world, upon its flesh.

lines and form, subdued in sense,

amorphous matter - cracked and rent.

are true the words, which mask seeming?

or void held gaze, and lack of dreaming?

a man, a man, in restless slumber,

context born of lust and hunger.

can we see, a world past sight?

strip away the egos might?

a star, a star, throws out its light,

grasping for 

the endless night.

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

Nice rhythm for a naturally flowing free verse. The tempo seems apropos, yet somehow quick for something endless. An enjoyable read.