Ghost of Earth ©

Gray Matter

July 22, 2016 Poems, Word, Writing

Remember to need
the gallows –
more than
paralleled
to the
temporal lobe,
wade into
the shadow,
swallowing out
it’s lymphatic
gold.

Of those
golden provisions;
the crust and
crumb lead
us back;
far back
to where we
always reside;

there;

purging
our might up
blindly;
removing the blade
from its body-sheath –
slightly;
tuning new
the electric fortress
that bears the weight
of our cerebral cortex.

Gray clouds
matter
in a familiar treason
that will never
cease it’s creeping
in between seasons –
without a rite
of passage,
and yet –
a message.

The message is
not the message
or a lesson
or a reason.

Instead it is
an elusive mistress,
that we are eternally
on the verge of
beginning
to learn
to live with.

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