Details |
Henry Almanza Poem
What is the torture of the torcher
Destined to carry light inside, blinded by the darkness outside
Can the two exist in a world of infinite color … Where neither is as clear as the light that shines and the darkness it consumes.
Can one exist without the other
Or is it in fairness that both ignite reflection through a prism of a kaleidoscope of loose bits of colored fractions between flat worlds mirroring changes of position of reflected and endless variety of thought and inspiration of hope and dispare.
None is full in its expression
None holds the fulness of truth
And both appearing as a simply burning of mid night darkness that only uncovers a particle to weak to be a reflector of what lies beyond the streams of consciousness
What is their purpose
To what degree of infinity is there cast?
I see the darkness in the light and the light knows that its existence in the darkness is paramount to its persistence
For it can not shine without the darkness
I see the darkness and its fear of the light and it knows that it will never dim its force of illumination
I see they must exist side by side
And that their commitment to each other is eternal
So What of the torture of the torcher but to except the burden of its witness and to live centered between the two, catching particles of color, reflector of reflector, free to be burned or extinguished ….
in the rapture of eternity in their persistence of the subtle sparks where color is born.
Copyright © Henry Almanza | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Henry Almanza Poem
Turns out Life goes on without you
After the whirlwind of center stage,
As the spotlight dims and the curtain falls,
With the echo of the last applause fading,
I am left with a sobering thought,
Life goes on without you.
Friends will continue to bridge the verse and chorus,
While enemies will continue the refrain, eager to trash the name once envied;
the audience grows tiered of clapping at the emptiness of it all,
Life goes on without you.
Finality is yours to bear,
No one remembers the acts between the lines of your story
And you realize,
Life was never truly yours to write.
Silence falls on the last footsteps as they fade from the final bow
What now, sweet Romeo? Was your casting ill-conceived?
"I pray you, in your letters,
When you recount these unfortunate deeds,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice:
Then must you speak
Of one who loved not wisely but too well." Othello claims.
Life goes on without you, this fact remains.
In the shadows of what once was bright,
I trace the contours of my forgotten dreams,
Each echo a reminder, each whisper a bite,
Yet here I stand, or so it seems … full and empty all the same, all at once … no thought remains
Even after a single laughter rings in the distant halls,
And life resumes its relentless pace beyond the theater walls
I ponder the weight of my final call, In this silent void that was my place,
Knowing… life goes on without me.
Copyright © Henry Almanza | Year Posted 2025
|