Only a few from the whole. By invisible don copyright 2005
Wandering in from haunts long ago
Comes a muse
The ticking clock echoes in the world
No one hears it save for me
Counting out the grains of sand
Only the crones know
Their shears like the scythe of mortality
Forever cleaving lives apart.
Threads not meant to be twined
Parts of the tapestries of two
Never meant to touch
Look closely at a portrait
The brush strokes waiver this way and that.
Flecks of red here and there
Splatters of blue and green
What colors are captivating?
What colors are fleeting
Stand close to a tapestry
Gaze upon the threads.
Which ones make the whole?
Which thread in the tapestry if pulled?
Will unfurl it leaving it wasted on the floor
Do you dare pull on this white one?
The brown one here that is frayed?
Would you know which one to toss aside?
Take a step back
Gaze up on the whole
Where is that fleck of green?
Where is that spot of brown
Seemingly insignificant each color
No matter how small
Complete the whole
Step closer now
Look deeply in to her eyes
Can you see it there?
Beside the flecks of yellow in the brown
And not quite near the halo of blue
There right there
In her gaze
Her dream
There all the while for you to see
It’s right there in her lips
Very near the corner
Where her smile begins
But doesn’t really finish
It’s there in the way she looks away
In the fall of her hair
In the drape of the sweater
Its in the way she swirls her coffee
Stares off into the shadows to see the last sliver of light
It’s there in her sigh
Can’t you hear her dying?
All the things you love in her
Fading away
Slowly slipping from her fingers
Fates let her rage
Rage against the slumber of mediocrity
And hear my cry to heaven
Let her fire live
And chain me with Prometheus
11/05 copyright 2005
