Monday, June 11, 2012

A shaft of sunlight finally breaks through,
and just barely stretches its fingers to the awakened floor stones.
There's a tension in the air
as the silence watches the stone satyr
awaiting his response.
He sits with heavy-lidded eyes,
a lazy upturn of the mouth at the ends,
underscored by a careless goatee.
Yes, he muses, maybe the moment has come
when once again he shall dance with the wood nymphs
and tease their golden locks with his hands,
when the music shall ring in the sun-addled shallows of the forests
and the wine shall free the spirit.
Maybe the time has come to leave this giant chamber of echoes
this vast resting-place for those who have reconciled themselves
to their mortality,
with the musty smell of millenia of neglect
and the sweet aroma of forgetfulness.
Maybe. If only I were ready to leave.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Snowfall at dawn;
I follow the rich scent of shivering pines
and hear the crunch of white underneath keep time
with the incomprehensibly loud beating of my heart.
I have walked till the blustering drifts have covered all tracks
and softly erased my tenuous links with Civilization
and her child, Memory.
All that is left is the merciful purgatory
where time has lost meaning.
I feel the muscles in my face numbed
to the point where smiling is a trial and an act alien to me.
I am grateful for no one's happiness hangs
upon the inflections of my eyebrows
or the melody of my words.
Only the sweet taste of snow and freedom remains today.