The Passing Away Of Orange Shades
you gather symbols
the metaphors confuse you but just the same
you take a stone, a rose, a knife
chunks of clouds for a dinner
of loneliness
the night appears like a steel pipe
singing the songs of the winds
on empty holes
the rust are many and the powder of
regrets stumble upon the circular edge
of day
south of the moon's directions
against the coldness of the walls
you listen for something that you do not like to hear
you grapple for the touch
of looseness
dripping sounds from the bottom of
the orange sun sinking on the line of
black horizon
until you see nothing but the humming of the soul
inside your brain
nothing seems significant
except the murmur
that old murmur that becomes a chant
to survive the havoc of the day
you paint a sigh using some
fixtures of the firmaments dissolving while a meteor passes away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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