what is real ? a poem by Chloe Steinberg love ? death ? why so .. is there any yearning left for a life so passionless as mine ? what is true .. a play ? as real as an act reacted and enacted after facts and broken promises is there some worthy reward for being false for the sake of earthly pride to provide for another mouth an alibi how could one endure to wear a mask well suited to any one of many nameless flowers and still not know itself to be a rose any common rose would not be named at all if not witnessed no fragrance inhaled no color brightened no petal velvet if it were not beheld in pleasure any soul remains a stranger to themselves if they have not found a mirror to give an answer to be absolved to drown the self in the desire of welcoming joy upon another to be familiar, an outstretched hand a vessel poured of its secrets.. to be held even when empty and known as useful for all its trouble to know the glory of love for the sake of love beauty for the sake of beauty not just to float upon the surface exercise the mind and body dwell in the house of faith hope for new tomorrows. get used to it amused by it become immune to it commune with it take it with your breakfast leave it by your bedside deep in a pocket this mad desire this dull frustration this unanswered prayer the lost civilization underwater underground explosions louder than the conversation leaving silent hidden wreckage all things come to light
Posted on: Sat, 27 Jul 2013 22:46:50 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015