do the whispers waft
into our twilit sills

wrought with swaying
unfound merit

peerless ripples
drawn toward rapture

deviate into divineness

sowing weightless tapestries
of finite fates
so tenuous

as twines weaving sinuous wrinkles
born betwixt the burden
of eternal wax and wane

whence seen through
the unseeing eye

watchfully in pithless ponder

plunder of our prosody
on paths
where pasts did weep

has since turned into prose

its sacred sentiments supposed

triumph we once swore
in visions
wakeless throughout wrested slumber

the sun’s refute
slow poring over muted snowfall

unwavering vows
burrow through
ciliced breast

tinged solanaceous

fragile fractals
found bestrowing

flashes in the midst
of chaos

aloft such strange striations

situated rows
composed of moted repose

frigid languor
finds embers subdued

particles of prisms seep
the pain staked with nature’s precision

into furtive crevices

transposing then
our timeworn trinkets
into infinite arrays

of twinkling
vast ornate escarpments
ever to adorn this landscape

waiting to one day be unearthed
so they may be birthed anew

once we will have all surrendered

to an end
thought not befitting

stewards of phantom perspectives

stowed away
’til hearth transcends

[image credit: Ephraim Moses Lilien]


2 Replies to “Wontless”

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