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jp-gossPoems
The very sky fell to greet a wandering shade Only by a falling light His form and frame were made Calling, with his silence A Solsticine, on whom None could find reliance. What of this world walked with the fog But he, small, In mist, walks without his giant At the fields of Arcad’ To golden plains A Dasein, in which nothing is flawed Standing at media Fit for the amused, too tall to walk On and on, on shoulders the sun takes its leave Its rest. To giants the day is drudgery, when one dawn falls And moon, I, dreading it won’t find me My idler goes in wistful mists On to the breaking light Onward to the reddened night My idler goes in wistful mists Silent, absolutely.
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
Idler
The very sky fell to greet a wandering shade Only by a falling light His form and frame were made Calling, with his silence A Solsticine, on whom None could find reliance. What of this world walked with the fog But he, small, In mist, walks without his giant At the fields of Arcad’ To golden plains A Dasein, in which nothing is flawed Standing at media Fit for the amused, too tall to walk On and on, on shoulders the sun takes its leave Its rest. To giants the day is drudgery, when one dawn falls And moon, I, dreading it won’t find me My idler goes in wistful mists On to the breaking light Onward to the reddened night My idler goes in wistful mists Silent, absolutely.
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jp-goss
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
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