Archive
08/17/10 - (1)
The Fading
The days fade, transform us into memories clinging to their wake, Yearning for, seeking the origin of our formative energy, Reminders of our once-vital lights,
Those sparks that glowed with the fulgence of colossal suns, When being whoever our dreams believed we could be Compelled us to complete eternity's perfect circle,
Just by breathing a syllable of free verse, out of chill air, Whispering a mellifluous riff of flowing arpeggios Into the mysterious matrix of mystical cosmic existence.
What I'm desperate to know is this: When the fading ceases and time's metamorphosis quits its phases, Has no more need to exploit the mind's reliquary,
What will become of the dust forgetting leaves in death's wake? Will it at least remember the poems and songs we created from nothing And return them to their rightful place in the universal chaos?
08/17/10 - (1)
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