having worked through so many ideas/ i find myself grappling on the edge of discontent/ a vast silence generated through the conspiracy of distractions and routine demands that I cannot escape/ my energy dissipated through the multiple intrusions of moments without meaning/ how do we stumble upon such ordinary paths?/ yet i find companions who inspire me to go beyond myself/ to seek some symphony that lingers in the silence/ to stroke the tones to some new melody/ to touch the pulse concealing embedded rhythms of a new energy...
the winter came so soon...too soon/ enduring the bitter cold demands so much...too much/ can such delicate soundings survive the onslaught of the relentless wind of winter?/ somewhere i hear the music of myself struggling to break through the icy surface/ i search for pathways across this opaque tundra/ blinded by the snow, i wander in the vast white nothingness/ a mere speck on this bleak desolate snowscape...
phaedrus listens/ phaedrus watches/ phaedrus knows the path but cannot intercede/ he sees the struggling gestures/ hears the halting attempts to break the silence/ and pauses in anticipation...
4 comments:
Yes, but the purity of the cold - and the thought that this early onslaught takes us into the future that much faster.
On our way home...
Yes, but the purity of the cold - and the thought that this early onslaught takes us into the future that much faster.
On our way home...
it is hard top remain anonymous if you said it again with your name (said the hippopotamus who wishes to remain anonymous)
yes, indeed.
anonymity was...
in this instance...
purely accidental
Thom de Plume
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