Eppur si muove (and yet it moves)Submitted by The Pen on Fri, 02/07/2014 - 16:10
When I was young my mind was to small too know the years to come,
and when I first experienced death the years to come fell strange,
yet now in this later year, I understand that death approaches as it always has…
to sleep heavy and awaken with a face for light,
another day death may take me,
another day be enamored the stars,
another day to compose a measure for meaning.
I’ve never considered myself an artist for the passion of words,
a damned honesty shapes page for page
of thoughts and visions not my own…
to have not remedied an inflamed heart for the souls meandering,
another verse lesser mine,
another title a vessel,
another beseeching the cure of humanity –
a malaise steward of devout men…
Know these words are transferential,
mouth to hand,
not my mouth and not my hand.
Peace and Love always.