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It’s while I was sleeping that I woke. --Tow’rs
by Rob LittlerThere is a continual unfolding--
A path forever trails ahead. Footprints
Gather on the soles of my shoes waiting
To be placed, anticipation falls
Away to movements trapped
In my muscles’ memory, the act
Is merely the actor, vibrating in space,
Attuned to a purpose, with nothing
But grace to guide the volition--
Leading choice to become decision.
We are the difference in the indifference,
Deafening the silence being, the science
Of freeing the fragmented notion
We came from something, or that once we stop
Shivering the cold disappears. As if silence
Ever asked the opinion of our ears.
07/11/2017 Posted on 07/11/2017
Copyright © 2024 Rob Littler
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 04/20/18 at 11:04 PM Are you turning feet on their heads here? Are we what we do? Justification, validation, destination: delusion.
Surely not, when we (meaning you) can conceive footprints gathering on soles, and effect controlling cause; makes me shiver, the more I think about it. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 04/20/18 at 11:11 PM As a footnote: I guess you've noticed that this is already amongst the ten most read poems on this site. Is that a Tow'rs WOGN effect, or merely predestiny calling? |
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