(05-17-2022, 06:30 AM)TranquillityBase Wrote: Afternoons of an Agnostic
Solar furies perch upon my shoulders. as My past life plays out transfigured into nameless sins in the sunlit isolation of noon.
The dust of my predicate soul stirs of its own accord leaving no traces except fearful reliefs distinct and disapproved.
I want to submit to an implausible God who watches over my confusion, One who counts my locked steps in a circular path of infinite distance while I anticipate a final vision that submerges me in His Presence.
But God departs and evening comes, and a twilit peace scatters the furies. Night descends to mark His Absence. I feel like this is a little unnecessary. In sleep I walk with dreams of daylight sprites, freed from His implacable Prison. Will I be forgiven the starlight doubts in my unhoused brain?
Unconscious morning marks the moment where the simplicity of waking returns me to my double self, I liked the doubtless, or even better doubtful self another day on the verge of discovering divinity.
I await with dread the post meridian.
I like it! Only a couple tweaks, those pesky conjunctions! Nice work!
Afternoons of an Agnostic
Noon-time, and solar furies
perch upon my shoulders
as my past life plays out
realized as nameless sins.
Sunlit isolation lays heavy
on the void inside my chest
and the dust in my predicated soul stirs
of its own accord, leaving no traces
except caged reliefs
distinct and disapproved.
I surrender my sins to an impossible God
who watches over my dissolution.
He counts my steps
in a circular path of infinite distance
as I wait for a final cry
to be strangled by His Presence.
Evening will come as God departs,
a twilit peace scatters the furies
and shadows disguise my failures.
Night comes with His Absence,
and in sleep I walk into dreams
of daylight sprites, freed from His prison,
who forgive the starlight of my unhoused brain.
Unconscious morning marks the moment
where the simplicity of waking
returns me to my doubtless self
on the verge of discovering divinity.
I await with dread the post meridian.
version 1
At noon, solar furies perch upon my shoulders
as past lives play out their mistakes
transformed into sin.
Sunlit isolation, absent any shade,
lays heavy on the black muscle of my voided heart
and the dust in my biblical soul stirs
of its own accord, leaving no traces
except disappearance and caged reliefs
distinct and disapproved.
I apply my memories to an invisible God
who watches over my dissolution.
He accounts for my every move,
circular steps in a prison yard of infinite distance
measured out in years of waiting for the final cry
strangled in my throat by his Presence.
Evening will come and with it
twilight peace will replace the furies as God departs
