Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
My grandfather took a step upon eighty year old feet.
He winced. I imagined a life propelled,
gnarled and burdened by a flock of memories.
And yet I am certain of the durable terror of infinity.
While the sky brightens as an endless cloth, the graveyard
train rumbles down a rusted hill and stops inside a hole.
Claustrophobia settles in and all turns into coal.
Something breaks into shards.

But the mythic firmament is forever burdened
In its endless routine; it has listed onto its side.
Adolescent sentiency catches a long stare and takes it all in stride.
The eyes of the old sky have become disheartened.
The apocalypse will not be drastic or instant.
It is a weathering effect
This poem was included in a musical composition written by my brother. You can check it out if you like at his soundcloud The song is also called Feet.
Written by
Henry Sturm
Please log in to view and add comments on poems