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'Z'
by Andrew S Adamssuch a strange fate that the end should meet-
a world so bent on perfection, so lost in itself
that one language lingers on a letter so
grotesquely misplaced. surely webster
or whomever decided the ordrer of all things
natural and complete, did not intend for
a letter such as this, th be the end-all
and be all of what we call a language
this very letter marks the end of what i
have come to call my own; these words
mix and find their own home inside my
eyes; this divinity i posess over them.
their lifeless souls, breathing because
i craft them to be so. Ambition is what
they are to my perception; however, they
know nothing of themselves.
and if they had some say in it,
i'm sure they might question such an
uncommon destiny as the letter Z.
Z is an end. Where shall i begin?
A is a more fitting start, but so bland
A vivid landscape painted with
The bleakest brush of mundane obscurity.
A statement about life, Ending with Z.
Here I end with Z. 05/22/2003 Posted on 05/22/2003
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 05/23/03 at 02:25 AM SEEING it on the level of language. Why not on musical scale? Where every note starts from a DO and rotate back to a DO. No doubt there are gaps which has to be filled up by speacial desires in the absense of a WILL. Beginings are always definite. We just need to carry along where ever what ever leads us to. Nice piece Andrew. |
| Posted by Alex Smyth on 05/25/03 at 09:32 PM I always perceived Z as the stalwart rear guard, razor sharp and at attention 24-7. Interesting rumination... |
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