Thursday, November 3, 2011


In twilight hours
The flame flickers
And my thoughts flicker in time
And keep the steps of the dance
The dance of the flame

And it follows paths construed in early days
Passing through notebooks long forgot
Back to a boy riding the bus
Who dared to ink paper, oh so young

And dared to pen the words he knew nothing about
Words such as love and pain
Words such as life and the emptiness behind it all
Words about words

I have looked for this little boy
I would sit under his wide arching brows
And listen to the wisdoms he would teach
How I long to find him again

Have you seen him, o flittering flame?
Where he might be?
I sit here and hold my first grey hair
And wonder, how soon is my story told?

Morose thoughts for such a night
When the universe keeps spinning
Regardless of where I am here or not
Life goes on as if I were no more

So why should I think myself so tall
So smart to have found the meaning of poesy
I shall recline in glorious slumber with my fathers
And rest in the earth, that ever vault of man

And the earth shall not be bitter to my taste
For I know it goes on without me there
How relieving to know this simple fact
That the world truly no longer revolves around me

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