Lost Soul Disciples
As carefree moments surrender to
promising creations and
careful slumber,
events unfold like a tapestry of
gilded fiber within the
gauze of memory.
These rivulets drip from the
elemental construct into
all living matter,
until dreams become more than
mere whispers of
valor during peril.
Dotted along the carved horizon
down at bare-ass beach,
we stare-down the
wonderment of design in
dichotomy with
whimsical mystery
until even the mundane gears
begin to slow to a
catlike stretch,
backs arched like stroked with
benevolent hands and
comet claws.
We witness the fleet correction of
ages of trickery in their
passionless eyes
as they swerve to gawk from
polished status
luxury sedans.
Copyright © John Weber | Year Posted 2009
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