18 Jul 2008


And now the man has stolen what since has been empty. What sense does it make to sing of otherwise? What sense does it take recognize, the glaring gap of everything in between ? The day collides and all else is futile to remember, that house of solid endings , his is the tear in the future – the distant star that burns though defiance. The deafening blow of a thousand winds inside one breath, echoing throughout now and nothing. As silent as a sister's – thoughts , muffled and gagged and guess what, the frightening noise of it all,, ends up without you, it's no secret. Sat beside you in her purse, reminding her of everything that's lost and forgotten, then it's time to look at it, she does her eyebrows, wipes the corner of her mouth, then back in her purse. Time will tell, this myself I was told, numb from the way it spoke, old as itself, torn in four directions. The voice of time is horse, wise, fading in and out as if there was ever a new day, he says, that moment you were caught, eternity froze and you can do this thing, where you bring it back and we watch, he laughs. But thats no new news. No new death at his stride and none to empty since it's been stolen. One thousand and stars falling onto your path, am I alone in this? , the way the cycle breathed and a hollow plexus at it's core, dancing all the while, an empty shadow , again. I neighbored the sunken voices of exiled warriors in the early steps of a century. I drank when their victories were full and the table crowded with stories of great kings. And now I am alone in this. But perhaps they will find me once more, among the stranded seasons that have yet to be, the leaves that are fellfallfalling. They will catch me during the celebration, and at that moment when eternity freezes, I can breath once again, knowing that I am looked over, not lost & that my voice will be heard.