Was the sky ever pitch black?
Never altogether opaque, to my eye
where I could see through like a kind of transparency and talk
to unhearing stars in their empty gazing
And I learnt to call the darkness that surrounds
them pitch black and, dawn brightness!
Does it (dawn) afford hope with all the clandestine drain works?!!
I ask what is left to believe in, the future (?)
without money or home to my name, and being irreversibly old?
Must I wonder that I shouldn’t spend too much
when even a little to purchase costs a lot
in dollars these days?! I am not even being assertive
in my desires, because I’ve just let that be.
And am I to sacrifice all my ethereal loyalties for the sake of humanity?
Dad, should the sky, then, fall on me
that I’ve even lost hope of a continuity?
And I am not looking for braw, brave, bravura solutions in my restraint and humility
if it could be collateral eye-for-an-eye, and tooth-for-a-tooth
And put everything in existence at risk
But that I savour, in my humble restraint, a terrible unsavoury probability
of love seeming like it will take an eternity
and lineage be written off destiny!
Are there any illustrious beacons for my patience?
Or mighty swords to set us free?
Or should I still have hope and belief at all in this evening of life
like the world stoically dies with autumn and incredibly relives the spring?
montes-musings.blog 