Storm cloud
There’s a name for this bleak sky
written in charcoal pencil
somewhere in the bottom of
the well you draw water from
today, tomorrow
time leaves me cold
wanting more
it's with me now
familiar as a childhood bed
inkstained
darkening with age
returning every so often to
remind us all of where
entropy ends
the heat death of the universe
thermodynamic equilibrium
isn’t that what we’re
working towards
my eyes wander to the page
face the night, slowly, and with care
it’s never quite what it seems
the whiteness is startling
in the dark era
when all these collective sensations
become tears washed into rain
storm clouds
move overhead
the sky crackles with thunder
that no one hears
So good!
ReplyDeleteShivers. Terrific.
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