Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
.
The conquest notch on the heart,
a symbol of success and achievement.
But another year closer to the grave
reflects the sadness of old bereavement.
The love of life has long driven passed,
a life of love into the darkness been cast.
The symbol has slipped so far away,
the notch has healed and had its day.
So now the heart is as cold solid stone,
and I climb the stairs to bed alone.


© Pagan Paul (01/01/18)
.
.
there are so many holes in the sky tonight
I wish I could crawl through one
and drop into an infinite drop
explore the nothing in the nothing
freefalling has always felt natural to me
I guess that's why it's so hard to orient myself
with enough space for beliefs and doubts
I look to the moon for guidance
while it waxes and wanes
it is always whole
illuminated or not
it is always present
So beautiful--God himself quailed
at her approach: the long body curved
like the horizon. Why had he made
her so? How would it be, she said,
leaning towards him, if instead of
quarreling over it, we divided it
between us? You can have all the credit
for its invention, if you will leave the ordering
of it to me. He looked into her
eyes and saw far down the bones
of the generations that would navigate
by those great stars, but the pull of it
was too much. Yes, he thought, give me their minds'
tribute, and what they do with their bodies
is not my concern. He put his hand in his side
and drew out the thorn for the letting
of the ordained blood and touched her with
it. Go, he said. They shall come to you for ever
with their desire, and you shall bleed for them in return.
Next page