Cleansing the Dust
My shoulders drag through whirls of crescent night
under a wooden bridge this heart retains,
a pile of thickened ash
where reason hangs on edge, hollow the veins.
Above a skyline, a deep madness roars
oh, patience grows thin along slithered bends
that I, in deep thought grope
for fate’s comfort as street lantern descends.
Nearing the foot, a dove rustles my skin
its pearl-like glow cleanses a dusty face,
soothing my troubled head
so near the fall, so far a warm embrace.
From nowhere, a glossed horizon appears
connecting me back to life’s overpass,
as birdsongs lift my glides
till cinders fly as joy pours on life’s hourglass.
John Lawless' Gathering Dust
3/02/2015
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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