The shadows become deep wells
pooling in her mind, she screams
silently listening to the labyrinth
of unending time,
pathways leading to trapdoors of pain
and lightless infinities of endless infinities…
Is there an answer,
is there a question,
is there a reason,
is there a mathematical equation
whose sum is the whole of creation,
will I win the game at the end of the simulation?
Within ancient keeps where stony shadows sleep,
And ivies tower their solemn watch maintain,
My heart, a fortress, guards a love so deep,
Against the mortal world’s unyielding rain;
No novel scheme, or lack of passing whim,
But built with stone that long ago was set,
Against the siege of doubts that make love dim,
A flail of thought, a whirling, wild regret;
Yet in this strength, a tender secret lives,
A banner flown for you, my lady fair,
For whom the castle's trapdoors relent, gives
Passage to sunlight, yonder fragrant air;
Thus, built for war, this fortress of my soul,
Behold your gaze, its peace, and thus made whole.
He staggers,
where once he counted steps
he now counts unsteady footfalls.
Life has become a minor earthquake
an aftershock still trembling
at the core of a wincing mind.
Many years ago, auntie had a stroke,
she careened to a halt,
yet carried on, speaking from deep within
a drainpipe language.
He was doing well, it was just the shakes,
a hesitancy in his gait.
He stopped drinking,
stopped falling down self-made trapdoors,
grasped for firmer handholds.
However, he knew
that he was a paper straw
and it sucked.
When I think of sky
it is a study of shapes,
radiance with motion;
a lidless stadium for
wings and blissful soaring...
the mental athlete I am
some nature of me giving
all artful snapshots flight,
no ceilings to my heavens,
and trapdoors to all my
belows –
I like to think that nothing
is definite, all Time having
added space – all sentences
lavishly repealed by grace;
my affection for endlessly
happy endings – even wrecks
like me, God yet loving, putting
new heels and soles on my
wayward, panting soul,
out-pacing Him and now
needing blessed, merciful
mending....
forthright don’t seem meandering paths ~ but they are known tried and tested
shortcuts and trapdoors are much more direct ~ but lives they have ingested
Lines
Leads to a drifting mind
A mindful of memories of loving and hurt
Anguish inside bursting at the seams, can’t be revealed
Outside of my mind, sitting on top I wonder why
Returning inside like nothing before
Slipping past the trapdoors, the daggers and the pain
A mad house is inside my mind
Like a spider web I’m trapped in seeing the love
Blinded by the avoidance that was blatantly, mindfully put apon my mind
A hurtful soul in line
Drifting away from her soul
It’s the most damning loss of love
To avoidance attachment
Walls wash through as waves
imposing, interceding my thoughts.
Embodied in opaque transparent panes
maze shadows distract my steps.
Setting stone to mortar without end
walls rise as fast as they fall,
alleyways, ever changing, prowl my mind.
Indifferent to my purpose they shift
open and close my course at will.
Chaos ensues at imposed barriers,
mind in turmoil seeks trapdoors of escape.
Am I prisoner or refugee of four walls?
A new pathway opens unbidden
yet past matters lie unresolved.
By who’s design reign the opening
rising and falling of my mind walls?
Is it my choice after all to choose
or by unseen influence or force.
My thoughts are but gossamer dust in drift,
moats, floating through the walls of destiny.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
2/21/16
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