All is quiet

05/05/2015 § Leave a comment

All is quiet tonight

in the small, inverted space

of my soul.


Once, I listened to invisible frogs

on a spring night near a bog

and wept for a joy I could not explain.

I thought—felt—heard—

they were crying

in exultation of themselves.


With such wondrous confusion

my soul then was filled,

with wildness and trepidation

and endless fumbling

of senses. Life seemed to be

a poem, always unraveling,

arcane in its beauty,

every word like a match struck darkling

in a room full of metals

and glittering things.


I strove

to look upon the world

with love, sought to find beauty

in all things and people.

And, failing both, turned my gaze

inward at last.


A mistake:

there, revealed

in a catastrophe of desire and volition,

the pettiness of my soul

appalled me.


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