Abandon, ever so vague
a name entirely unpronounceable
a thought, utterly worthless
then a feeling without face
a touch without my skin
I’m too old to restart this engine
I must move on, abandon
what once was light now is shadow
what was once purpose is now fiction
there is a pure moment
no matter what I think
it’s not my call to make
there is only a pure moment
I might pretend to stir this vessel
but it’s really not my doing
there is apparently something ancient
something beyond measure
I don’t sense it, life is cold as cement
The waves are coming down on me
I can only laugh
sometimes I feel like expanding indefinitely
but a cage made of ribs
keeps my insides in their place
The next step is here… it’s too late
to look back.
3 thoughts on “The lost dreams of a lost man…”
I like that painting, Pablo! Makes me think of
gut wrenching and agonizing over something unknown.
The poem has an intriguing aspect, the back and forth motion
of wayward thoughts that touch and go, feel and release. Good job!
Thanks Uncle, an ambivalence towards the pathos and bathos of life. Aren’t we just a beautiful fluke of nature… yet who can denied the profundity of it all?