August 17, 2015

I hear a-knocking...

photo by Daniel Mennerich ©

I hear a-knocking

we have entered a season of reckoning 
during which many will perish...
and though I am loathe to say...
each and every day there is 
a growing insatiable disconnect vine, 
much like bittersweet...
wrapping itself around the fences 
we choose to be neighborly with...
choking the slats between 
the gardens on every side...

there are no winners 
should this Winter come to stay
and only those who dare hope inside 
the deepest parts of their light divine 
shall see Spring again with humanity's eyes...

love is in fact as intact 
as skeletons found 
in silt bottom bogs 
begging for skin 
and articulation...

the soul knows to wait
for there are 
cycles upon cycles 
of choice and observe 
some fates we pray 
never to see 
in the dawn 
of a new day 

the strain of a cradle 
with humans doing not 
what they please 
but easing into slavery 
causes my soul to rot 

my bones are nearly 
all that is left of me
ghost and ache 
bereft of feeling 
to take with thee 
a scent or trace nose 
remembrance of me

and yet, somehow
I do love you 
despite all of this 
so perhaps 
fading away 
is meant
to be my bliss


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