A blurb births a poem.
Apr. 19th, 2005 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackshoegazerI have caught the beginning of the Universe in my hand,
A vision, darshana, of the End - perhaps?
That sly 'oh why' that you cry all the time, it is mine.
Miscellaneous blurbs on the cellar door,
pointing me far, painting the floor.
Reciting lines of justice and froth,
God's golden ashes wiped up with a cloth.
Portraits of rain,
The ticking clock.
An air-hammer and song,
dispensing the flock.
Pass us the wine,
Our tentative time,
Has arrived.
(C)2005 JJP
A vision, darshana, of the End - perhaps?
That sly 'oh why' that you cry all the time, it is mine.
Miscellaneous blurbs on the cellar door,
pointing me far, painting the floor.
Reciting lines of justice and froth,
God's golden ashes wiped up with a cloth.
Portraits of rain,
The ticking clock.
An air-hammer and song,
dispensing the flock.
Pass us the wine,
Our tentative time,
Has arrived.
(C)2005 JJP
