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Edgar Whitman Wilde
Poems
Sep 2012
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Through the shadows of evening
I brandish my grievances
Tortures that shame me with a fatal incompetence
That disperse nothingness, while about the place
Threads of mist hang in the air, ghostly blankets
Suspended by invisible strings perhaps portents
Prophesies of future events
Beyond my mind there is a silence
A silence without end everywhere
It is as if the very elements themselves
Hold their breath waiting for something to happen
A silvery unexplained light floats like mercury on my mind
The world looks on in hideous and embarrassed silence
I close my eyes
Written by
Edgar Whitman Wilde
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