Schisms and Lapses
Ah the schism, the gap...
the once electrically charged space that now,
seems to hold only hollowness
like a wicker effigy… before the offerings have been placed
before the lamb as been brought to slaughter.
The line between sanity and insanity blurrs
water on glass.
Laughter has never been a recourse
not for me…taunting a perpetual bridegroom
no release from sleepless nights but tears.
What soothes my "weary wrinkled soul"
naught but tears.
Hold back the anger the misused fuel of fools.
Waylay the rampant strands of kinder thoughts
feed the seedling of understanding
pity the blighted hearts.
There can be no groom for the withered crone
for time has come and wisdom was the choice
life the sparkling firmament has reclaimed
for your words ... your thoughts
have oft called to me at night.
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