Journal/poetry entry 12/16/17

 

The cold brings me back, as it bites my bones

To those aching hours spent alone

When the brush of my pen was the only sound

In pages that whispered on frozen ground

Immutable mountains looked down without remorse

A river cut stone in Her sinuous course

And beside her I ran, where a pathway cut clean

Sharpened  my edges, and made myself lean

Hard enough, to stand firmly with ease

Yet soft enough, for my prose to appease

 

A poet disembodied from the roots of her craft

Must make of circumstance a feasible raft

Constructed from metaphor, closer to any truth

Than all the bald faced lie of youth

 

Night winds blow through my shallow layers

A solitary moon receives my prayers

This moment is made to reflect, refract

That ambiguous line between TRUTH and fact

It has been too long, my arrival here

This seat, this home, this blessed year

 

I give you now my friendly eye

This blackened thought, this starry sky

Sit here with me as it grows far too late

Let us ramble… pontificate

It is the time when REAL is relative

To what you are willing, or unwilling to give

What do you stand for, as you stand beneath these stars

Can you sculpt something beautiful from the passage of scars

Or are you a detriment to my current of flow

Have you no mind that seeks the puzzle of prose?

 

In this moment I am shifting, evolving as it were

I make no apologies, I’m not a caged bird

A thought flies now to the roots of the matter

Where shaky insights inevitably shatter

Why always the moment unspoken, un-captured

That holds the ever present rapture?

I try in vain, to convey this wind

How it stirs the plants, the trees, my skin

How cold cuts sharply into my wit

Revolves around the chair I sit

Spinning these words, these thoughts to you

And in this moment the current is true

So I thank you dearly for tossing with me

In choppy currents as I find the sea

As every river does, in its eventual course

With gentle persistence, and awesome force

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