filament
because even the light can trap you if morning
comes too soon and each tiny thread
is a miracle of meaning
drawn tight through the fabric
of pattern’s dedication
with all the patience of temporary
everything we build is false and
ruins prove nothing but existence
which is why the sky
is always the only witness
held captive in stuffy hotel rooms
and protected by a new name
every season
but i tell you
the earth keeps turning and we are all
just figments of gravity’s imagination
built of stone and empty vessel
carved raw in the likeness of star and spider
held together by shiny bits of belief
.
.
.
September 17th, 2015 at 9:43 am
Wonderful!I love that last line “held together by shiny bits of belief.”
September 17th, 2015 at 10:15 am
Beautiful!
September 17th, 2015 at 10:30 am
We need to get gravity a new imagination, if I am but a figment. The days weight heavy at times though, and ruins can certainly be made of existence. But there is still often treasure in the ruins – hints of our history.
September 17th, 2015 at 11:00 am
“with all the patience of temporary” … love
September 17th, 2015 at 6:54 pm
I loved the ender! Very well done. This is how I feel some days.
September 24th, 2015 at 10:10 am
I think that particular gravity keep it all together though.. maybe we still need it, though the weight on our shoulders can be hard to bear.
September 28th, 2015 at 3:56 pm
Yes, indeed, the world keeps turning! And…your poem is beautiful!