Just a mirror for the sun
scribbles about a commonplace existence.Archive for October, 2009
drugs and soul
Shaped as frozen flowers the
Light fell on her face
I watch the dust shift
Under my gaze
Each shade shadowed a different plane
Of her quiet self in repose
And I felt that I must shatter
So sharp and brittle was it
That I choose instead to write this
In an attempt to explain
How cold and clear the morning was
And how golden soft the light
How stunning each inch of her skin
In the dawn of our lives.
Today I buried her in the yielding ground
The light remained unchanged
But so different is the world now
That I can no longer see the same
Already memory shifts into
Little sepia dots
And I can no longer tell
If she meant as much as I believed
But how I hope she did.
The world moves faster now
And I cannot see the lines
Because they blur into one
Long endless day and time
Means little to me today
But later perhaps I’ll find my soul
And you can ask me again.
–
To sit and listen to the wind
Is something of an art
Because you never know
What it might say
And if it is to whisper
So quietly that you doubt
Its very existence
You risk your sanity
But then again, it might
Wail in such sorrow that
You long to cradle her
Like a lost child in pain
But I listen to you talk with
Your words that lead me astray
So I’m almost glad of the wind
And her canny ways.
–
Reams of paper have been
Spent on describing
A love that fills the heart and
Spills into the air
Wrapping one in its flavour
But I would like to tell you
About a love so quiet
As to almost not be there
A love that made me
Wonder about its
Honesty and
search for proof
But now I would like to think
That I’ve found such a love
Though you’d probably disagree
Because it does not flaunt itself
Or keep my face aglow
And I often ask myself
If love could have any other use
But then again, why must
Love have any use?
