Sorrow a fable;
This lesson in doubt–
Of spilt milk glass, over table,
In this half empty vessel
My thoughts can but only half fill;
Fear, indecision and apathy wrestle
For control of my will.
Tears in an ocean
Of tides over turn.
Undertow of shallow
and deep self-concern..
These limbs time’s twisted
Patience solemn slowly wrought,
As if no straight lines existed
In that dimension of knots.
It’s an ongoing friction,
An army of days in a war of time.
The hungry slaughter of conviction,
Once flesh is past its prime.