Thursday, October 6, 2011

A Toast

To our backwards failed escape
endlessly looking backwards at the shiny
grey zeroes of infinity
the temperature weeps
in slow degrees to season
the anonymous days
suffocating with old ideas
old purpose

All directions and all paths
an afternoon
groping for
an end and a beginning

We kept trying, and finally
cleared the frost of
And like pulling open a curtain
discovered that a promise was
almost enough



zonedin said...

If you could promise you'll always be here, it would keep me warm through the chill of the seasons.

Whatever said...

And here on the otherside of the universe the ice curls back her fingers against the gentle push of warmth.
Still too she cries real tears
as if she had no use for all this new life he brings.

If there was somewhere left to run
I'd go there,
to the source of the hunger and the end of need.
where there was nothing left to promise, but enough.

rivercat said...

Im speechless
such nice and amazing comments
thanks :)