04-22-2012, 05:41 PM
First last thoughts.
This arrow sharp and slick that scrapes the long cut grave cuts me;
and flying o'er the old and friendly earth, bleeds life away with every nick and scratch.
I furl the dated pages to escape; damn this inevitable shift from present to future past.
Myopic now, I fail to see the writing writ by me. The arrow goes its way.
This arrow fast and faster yet, lands not where I can see; so are these eyes then closed?
If all the fastness ended and dropped the piercing tip, is this the spot where I at last would lay?
Would love and peace and joy and grief and fear and envy die that day?
But then what would I be? The arrow goes its way.
The arrow flies and neither flesh nor blood of man, can change its course nor save from buried plight.
Deep earthed in darkness roam the ghosts of those who thought an end; blind bliss, but what of me?
Glass mirrors make soft judgement through lensed eyes, but sharp the view of distant fields
Where hitting down the one last time I meet you all.
Not all; look back! The arrow goes its way.
Tectak 2010
This arrow sharp and slick that scrapes the long cut grave cuts me;
and flying o'er the old and friendly earth, bleeds life away with every nick and scratch.
I furl the dated pages to escape; damn this inevitable shift from present to future past.
Myopic now, I fail to see the writing writ by me. The arrow goes its way.
This arrow fast and faster yet, lands not where I can see; so are these eyes then closed?
If all the fastness ended and dropped the piercing tip, is this the spot where I at last would lay?
Would love and peace and joy and grief and fear and envy die that day?
But then what would I be? The arrow goes its way.
The arrow flies and neither flesh nor blood of man, can change its course nor save from buried plight.
Deep earthed in darkness roam the ghosts of those who thought an end; blind bliss, but what of me?
Glass mirrors make soft judgement through lensed eyes, but sharp the view of distant fields
Where hitting down the one last time I meet you all.
Not all; look back! The arrow goes its way.
Tectak 2010




