February 19, 2002

  • The Blue Guide


    in the grip of unmotion
    with less than a thought in my mind
    i sense the dark of an inner ocean
    never known to time.


    i have no being there:
    there is no relation—nothing far, nothing near;
    just the darkness within darkness
    that most men love to fear.


    i could lose it all, crawl
    blindly feeling my way along
    surrendering substance to the subtle
    seduction to never have or belong.


    o, why have i forsaken me,
    embracing the whorl of nothingness
    over certain certainties,  seeking
    …the conscience of a blackened thing?


    yet the world is fine as it tracks time
    —though i’m no longer part of it.
    and sans moi it seems nothing’s changed:
    the advantage of playing my small bit.

Comments (284)

Comments are closed.

Post a Comment

Recent Posts

Categories

The End of Days

February 2002
M T W T F S S
« Jan   Mar »
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728