Creo, ergo sum.
I create, therefore I am.
Or should that be
I am, therefore I create?
Ego sum, ergo creo
Creo, ergo sum.
I create, therefore I am.
Or should that be
I am, therefore I create?
Ego sum, ergo creo
A new beginning begins
Another old ending ends
A circle encircles again
Time encloses and bends
.
.
Submitted for Gooseberry Garden. If you’re visiting from Gooseberry, please include a link to your own contribution in the comments so we can return the visit! 🙂
It’s a day
Just a day.
The sun rises.
Fog clears to clouds
Or the sky is blue.
Snow falls on empty streets.
Stores are dark.
When you meet someone,
they nod and say,
Merry Christmas.
You smile and repeat it.
It’s just a day,
like every other,
but you have to observe
the niceties.
Come.
They said.
The end is near.
Maybe not.
I said.
He’s tougher than he looks.
Not this time.
They said.
Come.
Hurry.
So we sat holding our breath
when his stopped.
Waiting.
But morning came.
And the next.
And the next.
He’s tougher than he looks.
Told you so.
Sleep is the sea
reaching out to you
embracing you in a wave
You collapse under it like a sand castle
dissolving into the depths.
I come to bed nursing hurt,
determined to keep to my side.
My crushed heart needs
the solace of loneliness, as I obsess
on the sense of abandonment.
Wishing, “Don’t go.”
I go myself.
A journey of anguish
centered in my soul.
I’ll rest perched on the west side
looking through salt water.
You sleep on the east,
spine set up against the mountains.
Between will be a desert that I will
not
cross.
.
I crawl between the sheets
and my feet haven’t left the floor
before I am entwined within your arms.
Pulled unceremoniously across the divide
wrapped tight in determined embrace.
.
There will be no fight on this landscape.
This was written from a prompt for Gooseberry Garden on Feathers, Fidelity Figment and Fables.
.
Your name is faithfulness.
Time stretched the fidelity
and you left that future,
For years t’was fueled
by the fervour of adoration,
and the declaration of forever.
Faith dripped
faintly
across forever
and fell
in fragrant furrows
of fallow hope.
Fictional voices
I understand the call of the other world
The voices beckoning
“Stay!”
Sometimes it’s hard to leave them,
To return to a world of responsibility
Of real hurt
Of real anguish
Of real love.
The world between the pages
Invades dreams
Fills days,
Creates a longing
That is only fulfilled
By words.
26.10.2011