En Route to Nothingness
Like a film rewinding,
Going back in time,
I reclaim my kisses,
Withdraw myself from you,
My promises denied,
The man in me no more,
A little boy instead,
And now undelivered,
Somewhere deep inside,
The throes of ecstasy:
Another place, another time,
Another someone there,
But now that, too, nebulous,
Another reel rewinding,
Another reel and still another,
Crossing line after line,
A creature now that crawls,
Now in darkness with the void,
Now en route to nothingness.
Going back in time,
I reclaim my kisses,
Withdraw myself from you,
My promises denied,
The man in me no more,
A little boy instead,
And now undelivered,
Somewhere deep inside,
The throes of ecstasy:
Another place, another time,
Another someone there,
But now that, too, nebulous,
Another reel rewinding,
Another reel and still another,
Crossing line after line,
A creature now that crawls,
Now in darkness with the void,
Now en route to nothingness.
The Being of Poet
The being of poet
is not in the yelling
of it from off
the mountaintops,
that it should echo
into the valleys,
deep and wide,
but in merely
the whispering
of it into the wind,
which will then carry it
to the mountaintops
and back again.
is not in the yelling
of it from off
the mountaintops,
that it should echo
into the valleys,
deep and wide,
but in merely
the whispering
of it into the wind,
which will then carry it
to the mountaintops
and back again.
The Being of a Poet is a refreshing look at what the statement means. I like that poem very much.
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