...And we are gone

by George Stal

... And be one eye , one soul
as the world recedes , gone ,
away far climbs. Vanished like a
driven cloud.
He is merely flesh and blood Reality ;
slaughterhouse stumbling through script
typed in selfless pursuit.
Wanting only quickened wit & Pupil's Needs.

Mortal simian image, which we , the living
only feel and bear and tremble and
are gone.
Upon my Darling's beaming eyes The summit
of everest slurs into a bog or quagmire , deep
and dank.
So gazing with the boldness which prevails
love, and peace and gracious mirth.
with a voice less loud though its
joys and fears show wool in dissembled
colours shine.

As the passers by near us drew
the Need to know from our stares, going further...
" O Merciless Lady & Vulture Poet
when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall
I will turn my bewildered eyes out
of soil and darkness , to run through
every alternate scene
Where I used to play on the green
in goodly colours gloriously arrayed.

And a voice less loud brought me
breathless to Aphrodite , throned in
flowers beyond this pale picture ;
be the dream. Roaing with laughter
as a fallow deer is clear cut through
the sun seen peering out the skull.
Alls
vast lilliputin language cannot describe
an Echo of the Time, after the rainbow.
Then , as if some strange mystery aware
that you should remember & be sad.
Now memory feels itself grow weak , I can
not endure,
I am merely flesh and blood "
And From some
touch of pity which may still restrain
she let him pass.

A leaf fallling softly at my feet,
but I saw it was not as thought ,
only inked. Falling in Heaven's crescendo.
Climax always brushing a distance out
of reach.
As to long panoramas of Visions, of
my faith , I'd give whole to see the architect
of my dreams once more. I am
waiting here for thee, flesh and blood , merely.

Ne'er to be found again. I am
like a flag unfurled in space. Oh ! Lost
to Her and all thy race to wit
faces of scorn , stuttering ends
this morn ; O Weak Heart. I long
to rise. Never being a Poet of God's making ,
laughter to thy lips, wandering to sigh
among mortal men dust ; shall return to
dust. As the storm cries everynight
and those that know me confirm that it is thus.
Easing a new epilogue , tremble
and we are gone...



ABOUT THE POET ~
Nothing but stardust...


Last updated September 15, 2011