I like what remains. Like sediment, Ash and an echo. This is a forum to talk about that which remains.
My barmy spear fell heavily
In Thames’ arms
And your bygone wisdom
Could not catch it
Sunday visitors found it in the bottom
They collected it like a touristic souvenir
Of Wisdom
Better these innocent strangers
that dared to capture my truth
Than my everlasting knowing ones
that could not vow me a lie
I won’t be looking for familiar shores
for my meaningful yesterdays
I will only torture the estuaries
of the infinite today
Purely
Like Wisdom
Not the one that you think of.
The other one, behind the light.
Behind the broken nerves and the cracks on the walls
Behind all the dramas.
It’s not that one.
It’s the other one; the irrational one.
The “again it’s here”, “it’s talking, listen to it”
“It’s in pain”
And it does not let you stay
It only converts you and transforms you
And blows you away
I only wanted you to see the good A from “I Am”
To hold it tight in your hands
And your meninges and your greys
I wanted you to believe
And for this to remain
I wanted you not to know,
not to depend on,
not to change
Not to need to,
not to defend against
Not to grip from the “U” of “Us”
Not to negate,
not to wither
Not to squeeze your fists.
Not the one that I show
The other one;
the tough one,
the aggressive one,
the crybaby one,
The intelligent one,
the seductive one,
the immature one
The hysterical one.
No, never your shadow.
Only the ray on your wrinkles
And the wrinkle in your dreams.
If you dare.
sedimentary 