The End of Time

The End of Time

 

 

The passing time in a stillness of passage

Blown soft with wanting

Furlongs in the corridors of sighs

 

Are dreams of mine

Left unsleeping

Repeating the hail of trumpeted cries

 

Another time

Touched by the paraded flowers

Of promises

To pick the blooms

My hands seem destined

And tender the bouquet of my wishes

For my lover

To choose

 

My life in time

Was sure to reach this conclusion

Its stark years

To roll out searching

Uncompromised

The rhetoric of my defences

Breeched in my heart

So easily

 

Once unknown

This naked

Time

Gathers me full

To the orchestral passions

Of its thumping timpani

Flaunted in my ears

With violin string dexterity

 

Brings forth a timely tempo 1812th crescendo all its own

Crashing, spraying, spume

Of literary hurricanes

Practiced demonstratively  

With unspoken lips

And un-tasted words

Lay floundering in the assemblages

 

Drip unexpressed

On pitiful poetry

 

 

These Bedouins in my soul

Left me to map a desert

Beyond describing

 

This time I could have

Imagined more

But the traces of ancient floods

Flashed rumble in their predicted courses

And overcame my statutory right

To resist

Battered at me with Peony lids

And sort finally to leave me here

Floating

Feathered drifting

In a smile

 

The last time this is

And occasion risen fated

Has me trapped

That fortunes bubble wrapped

Would dare to pry from me

The ultimatum of hope

 

And if I myself, should dare to believe

In the end of the time

Without love

 

 

 


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Published Date
5/20/2009 12:00:00 AM
Published In
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