Saturday, December 4, 2010


who are these things?
they came to me on wild winds
amid bird-songs and world-sounds

after the moon, before the sun
in faint rosy-colored fingers
which signal to half the world
that dawn is about to enter the room

hurriedly without turn
totally unaware of
my tendency to spurn
these type thoughts

fear has gripped me
tightly into immobility
ending is ever so near

what must one do?
the time is passed
help is nowhere seen
so this is finale, end

writing now is paramount
that is all which will count
until curtain descends
until life ends

in the sky are signs
clouds gathering
earth shaking
nothing in align
i am hopeless

image: deviant art