Archive
02/06/12
Nights
These dazed nights, Blind, mute, deaf, insensate, in my ever-expanding nothingness, My psyche cries silent, dry tears that turn to stalactites, Piercing, drip by drip, my eyeless visions, Those fantasies that my youth, in its gloating orgullo, hubris, Contemplated, imagined, dreamed, Conceived as, one day, becoming the stuff of human genius — The mystical poetry of the Dead Sea Scrolls; The majestically eloquent dramatic tapestries of Shakespeare; The profound opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony; The stark, beautiful renderings of Vitruvian Man and Sistine God.
These immutable nights of my psyche's isolation from memory, I grope, on the bones of hands and knees, Seeking the relocation of whatever meaning I might extrapolate From the spasming clatter of silence's echoing heartbeats, Scattered, haphazardly, in my sealed casket, Knowing, deep below the ground holding my soul down, That no matter what wisdom I might gather, in my mind's sieve, I'll never understand how forgetting came to dominate me Or begin to piece together the disparate grits of my past, Which, once, with such integrity, constituted my life's history, Before destiny pulverized the best gestures of my humanity.
02/06/12
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