Thursday, July 8, 2010

The Inveterate

The creatures a forlorn land
Described in the path of the aging self
Of the images broken and a remade
Experience finds its frenzied depiction

Into the land of the delighting past
A devotee is born
within the castle’s walls
Over coming, finally
Beyond stillness of the aging self

Cautiously treading yet craving the covers
Of the saintly,
a pretense of encouraging
A snake sheds its skin as seasons change
Rapidly engulfing, controlling, ones
Of the forlorn land

As the present passes to be the later and last
Past and its future
Of the mother seeds the likely plant
With a plan
Cautiously treading its own boundaries

New born take their stride
Out of their crippled cradles,
Form the first breath admitted
Into training
Of rigid conversations with in walls

A crime is committed
The blind sense its vicious aura
Of the forlorn land, I speak

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