Journeying

so beautiful yet imperfect
lofty thoughts crammed
into asphyxiating spaces
with all the bold grace
of a cattle train full
once openly arrayed
each letter corrupts their
purity, dampens their joy
white petals wilting, scorched
thoughts and images divine
now uneasily bourne
by vessels corruptible
cursed with leaking hulls
what frail bearers of light
shadows cast by storm lamps
flickering bare intermittence
or maybe a spark of glory
yet from season to season
souls bare in furious compulsion
feverish quills worn past utility
asking ourselves, have we
could we have triumphed
reaching the terminus preset
or a foolish dream drifting
a journey we each must take


`

by Frederick Kesner

Comments (2)

Good poem here Fredrick Louie
I hope My quills death ia not in vain. yours is not ricky. very strong tone, I like it. Great job You saw through everything and captured that one.