Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jenn Coke Oct 2016
The river flows one way;
Once you're across the Styx,
You cannot turn around.

Up ahead, death awaits.
Behind, life aggrieves.
Yet, all but one choice exists.

Despite the past, move forward,
However dark the path is.
Leave what was to what will be.
Onoma Nov 2016
Known, let it be--of sight inhaling the fragrance
of roses...of touch hearing the impactful sounds
of stones sacramentally tasted.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
By blameless necessitation what sense took its
turn of sense...called upon by a thoroughgoing
life.
That life solemnly sworn to solidified places of
light--whose need of need, aggrieves not its
reversion to light, but shines upon flesh's folding.
As every burden reaches for its reason, reaching
what's unburdened by virtue that reach.
As Virgil guided Dante through the dark wood,
he was once guided to offer guidance, the
unbreakable watchfulness of crossing paths.
Of guides, there are many--untold many, that the
idea of emptiness at any given moment, is merely
an interchangeability from fullness...ebulliently so.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market...coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
Onoma Oct 2014
Known, let it be--of sight inhaling the fragrance
of roses...of touch hearing the impactful sounds
of stones sacramentally tasted.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore the away.
By blameless necessitation what sense, took its
turn of sense...called upon by a thoroughgoing
life.
That life solemnly sworn to solidified places of
light--whose need of need, aggrieves not its
reversion to light, but shines upon flesh's folding.
As every burden reaches for its reason, reaching
what's unburdened by virtue that reach.
As Virgil guided Dante through the dark wood,
he was once guided to offer guidance, the
unbreakable watchfulness of crossing paths.
Of guides, there are many--untold many, that the
idea of emptiness, at any given moment is merely
an interchangeability from fullness...ebulliently so.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
Evenings
we hear the chirp of the blackbird
Our bent shadows
appear

We thirst for the knowledge
of the pool

We the Autumn  people
lay by the elms

once slender hands
eyes aloft

the dark aggrieves our souls
the mutuality of a friend's hand
transgresses the gloom

— The End —