A soft wind whispers secrets to spirits
Grandfather gathers dust in the dark;
Midnight creeps all along the horizon
As I ride low on the pendulum’s arc.
I swing past ones and elevens
While I sway from the nines to the threes:
I kiss the extremes that mimic the heavens
After gliding through hells in between.

Starlight cries like a heartbroken lover
As it departs and returns to my dance–
Embracing me at the ends of the waltz
Not condoning my shadowed romance
And though her tears new pains impart,
They taste like life should taste–
And would, if not for a numbness of heart
That laid the joys of life to waste.

But it’s these joys that engine the swinging
While their vapors piston the flow
What feels like decades on life’s surface
Is merely seconds spent below
These notions that I’ll call my own
(Though surely grander in their scale)
Are insufficient to atone
For the ambitions they will fail.

07/06/2009

Posted on 07/06/2009
Copyright © 2025 V. Blake