Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Virus Interlude
"I've never seen meaning in a morning mist
Nor meditated to stillness in a northern sky
I've felt the rush of youth, the tumult of wasted time
Always the rancour and drunkenness and ineptitude of escaped years
Dice rolled from this Atlantic City hand, robbed by a midnight darkness
Penniless from what was stolen, what came easy went easily by lust in place of loneliness
I can't recall my fiance's name, nor see her face
The past is all anyone knows, but a virus clipped our memory
A park is where I live in sickness
From hand out plastic bags I eat the left overs from others
I can't call her name, any name...only a sense of an eternal garden and nothingness
Just a constant fever
A weakness from hunger
Like others who host the virus within 
In late November I lay back on winter grass
I stare straight at stars and close my eyes
No Godly vision, only a darkness foretelling a brightness 
Snow covers me, each flake melting on this fevered skin
With open eyes I firstly meditated to a Northern Sky...and saw meaning in a waiting sea."
                                                     --The Nothing Man
 


                                                        
 



 

1 comment:

Brother Ollie said...

Nothing Man indeed...

Dig this piece SC.