Monday, April 6, 2009

Poem: The Unbearable Likeness of Being Here

The Unbearable Likeness of Being Here

A wrong step somewhere,
I now gamble with the day
And the darkness,
Expecting resolutions
That are irreversible.

The value within reality
Cleared my mind.
But foreign precedence
Swept away matters
That factually
Share accomplishments.

Cutting primitive wounds
And continuing reflective struggles,
I will never understand
Why I am here;
A child of a gone world.
No longer a product,
No longer a shadow
Of myself.

“It use to feel so foolish,
It use to feel so useless.
There was a time before treachery,
There was a time before symmetry.”

I am here.
I am three days ahead,
Welcomed in paradise lost
And two years behind,
In the wild woods shivering.

I am tempted
To comfort specific efforts
Neither recorded
Or carried.
Meanwhile, in-between the walls of doubt,
These mustering questions
Grip surprisingly.

“This hour present
Is not where I belong.
In due time,
Will it ever be long?”


"When the doors of perception are cleansed, man will see things are they truly are, infinite." - William Blake

©2009 Torrence King. All Rights Reserved. From the poetry-art collection “Dead Artists Symmetry”

from the poetry-art book: Dead Artists Symmetry - Available Now

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