By Francis Scudellari
Unable to conjure
Spirit from lifeless clay;
To coax light trapped behind
Deathly mask's pale shell; Hard,
Inflexible set since
Firing flame flickered out
In-curled wisps of black smoke;
To raise fatigued soul, years
Pressed against bounded walls;
Accepting accustomed;
Thick-edged surface fixing
Inherited sense of
Impossibility;
I refashion, purposed
One-way portals invert;
Out-turn once received waves;
Colored particle streams
Bend, mind prisms project
Fanciful forms chiseled
On fragile facing rock;
Subtle shaded displays
Mimicking life enough
Lost essence, envious,
Energetic leaps free
2 comments:
describes my feelings some days...
All too many days for me :).
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