The Inertia of Spinning Eddies
There is a world
some know intimately
A world where
you’re never enough
A world that casts aside
misunderstood imperfections
like stigmas' ashes ,
burnt traces
in lonely mirrors
left behind
Behold the fate of a leper
never belonging ,
alone all along ,
yet spirits too strong
to be spun undone
Turning and turning
around and around
circling and circling
redundantly spinning on
a world of spin
whirling right on by
wound in the heart
tear in the eye
Each and all wild waters
temporarily restrained
by swirling rip tides pull
sooner or later
there comes a time
all untamed currents
do ebb and flow
Claps a warring
wave of grief
upon the shoreline
so powerful it deflates
all breath
succumbing
to a wearying wave
pangs the reality
of the pending void . . .
© harlon rivers
August 16th, 2014
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