Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar
There are those who identify with quantity.
To fill a necessary space...
To let dust with an emptiness,
And silkened within a cobweb traced.
In cobelligerence it seems,
But not in protest.
Nor in the uniting of values.
A storm that isn't but 'is' inside that brews.
Like the eyes of someone in a portrait,
That follows you and every move!
The substance of the quantity,
Fails to provide a quality missed.
And the dust seems to sit...
As if that had been the purpose of it.
To soothe a mental disturbance.
Proving a self control can exist!
But to who?
To collect one's thoughts.
Until the memory finds a meaning.
And a perfect time to explore...
That's all it is...
If one does this alone!