The evening spreads itself across the sky
Like a canvas,
Splashed with hues of frantic yellow, somber blue,
And hectic red,
Captured in a shapeless frame
And hung upon the wall for all to see.
The throngs, which fill the gallery
Observe in silence
As the colors fade and slowly are forgotten,
Like the nursery rhymes you favored as a child.
The moment when a thousand words are spent
The tools that carved the fate of nations
And changed the face of countless maps
Have lost their strength.
The swords that caused the heavens to collapse
Have lost their edge.
They struggle for a semblance of significance,
Like a dying man struggling for breath,
But none is found.
Disturbing silence is expected
An agitated clock demands attention.
You wake from slumber,
Peeling away the sheets that held you in,
And place your feet upon the floor.
These feet will carry you
Throughout your expedition;
Through half worn paths and crowded streets,
Through triumphs and defeats
As fragile and as momentary
As a woman's affection.
These feet will carry you,
When your day's dilemmas are resolved,
Past a change in your complexion
And towards a certain certainty.
Back towards the tomb from which you rose
With eyes half closed
But flushed with curiosity;
Beneath the layers of dusty sheets
That bound you in a state of sleep.
As nightfall moves throughout the city
Your thoughts are laid to rest,
Sealing your spirit in slumber.
Another person takes a number,
And another day begins.
Copyright © 1994-2018 by Benjamin Toney. All rights reserved.
Previously published in Central High School's annual The Tempest, 1995-96, under pseudonym.
Copyright © Benjamin Toney | Year Posted 2018
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