(1950 / )

Shadow Figures

we make shadows,
not knowing the play of life upon us;
contrasting skies,
like warriors marking trenches,
to bury memories,
evoking left lovers behind,
slipping moons;
changing shape like play dough,
in the hands of children,
sensitive to the innocence,
of smiles and trusting,
that today is all there is,
of tomorrow's dream;

in the volume of unspent eons,
basking in scars unfading,
still fresh,
ever fresh the dirt of millipedes,
shuffled in tiny bickerings,
of wavering patterns,
signalling the wearisome task,
that births new constellations;
flickering lights,
bright unseen meteors,
of processes traveling,
travailing universes,
existing on the fringe of,
mind shattering kaleidoscopes;

stars twinkle in response to,
programmed eternity;
already the dearth of answers,
filed in the to do,
folders of hard drive realities;
when night succumbs,
to daybreak twitterings;
only because a phase of,
sieved light filtered through
then the shadows dancing
on the wall of the puppeteer's dare
somersaulted into yesterday again

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Comments (1)

wondedrful poem words are wondering with your ink and think...