Corner Pub #3 |
ephemeral |
IntoTheRain Member
since 2006-01-29
Posts 51Westwood, CA |
I can almost look down the road and see you dearest I can't see or feel or think being apart-whatever has happened whatever will happen- its like begging mercy in the midst of a storm its like growing old its late all the windows are open the air outside is soft as spring yet somehow much younger much more frail than spring I've often wondered why we think of spring as a young woman why that illusion dances and sings through three months through the world's preposterous barrenness spring is a ragged old plough horse ribs showing starkly, or a pile of refuse in an empty field parched by the sun and the rain to an ominous cleanliness I don't believe anyone alive can see themselves as an impermanent institution a luxury, an unnecessary evil so very few accentuate the futility of life and feel that futility in themselves perhaps they think in denouncing ruin in proclaiming the evil of living they somehow salvage their own worth they don't. still, I can see you there's blue haze about the trees that you'll be passing too beautiful to be predominant no the fallow squares of earth will be more frequent alongside the track like dirty coarse brown sheets drying in the sun, very much alive mechanical and abominable So you see now that you're gone I've written a letter as empty as the hours and in this contempt or despair there must be proof of something higher rarefied and out of season |
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© Copyright 2008 Rob Sunderland - All Rights Reserved | |||
Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
What an absolutely beautiful picture you painted with your words, which were hardly empty. |
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