Pocket Full of Mumbles

What's done is done, and this puppy's done. Visit me over at Pearls & Lodestones

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I would rather create than destroy, build up rather than tear down, move rather than sit, love rather than hate, live purposefully rather than meander, write rather than stare at an empty page...

Saturday, August 06, 2005

In Memorium...

"Forgive us Hiroshima, Forgive us Nagasaki..."

--Deflowering the chrysanthemum

Here is a bit of verse scribbled at the audio board this evening.

What is coming?
I asked of the sky
No thought that blue
Could ever reply
But countless birds
Away did fly
       "Something comes"

What is coming?
I asked again
And felt the brush
Of Insistent wind
Pursuing a path
The Avians winged
       "Something Comes"

What is coming?
I asked of the sun
The air grown hot
To blister my tongue
Flesh to ash
In a flash, done
       Something has come

Yet I remain
My ghost, my bone
Remembered this day
In memorial stone
Etched in apology
I've no right to own

Something has come
...and gone
       May it not be forgotten


Of course, factually, birds were incinerated in flight, and no wind rushed save those winds atomic, and those that held Enola above the fray.


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