Still on the Shelf?

The Pen's Might

The Pen’s Might

A dog-eared page
In an old book
Mirrors my mood
Phantom reason
Marked as special,
I fervently hope
For unknown purpose
An unremembered time
Or accidental
Compressed too long
Hidden, neglected, fragile
Forest and trees
Broken off, lost

Handle with care
My life attacks
A whirlwind child
Imperious Nature
Unaware, uncaring
My dog-eared self
Bent in twain, misplaced
Holding no importance
No hidden meaning
As likely to be tossed
In the trash, or
Trampled on the floor
Than to be noticed
Remarked upon

Drowning under detritus
I franticly seek the sun
The moon, the stars
Such distant witnesses
To this small life
Lost among sand grains
All, together
Important to the whole
Endlessly-vast beach
Negligent, alone, lost
Soon washed away

Wait! Faint, fading
Words in the margin
Wan, nearly gone
Or a footnote
On the yellowed leaf
Enough, a short stay
Of the execution’s axe
A brief moment’s
Concern, too soon
Cast away, distant
Insignificant to time
Indifferent, unnoticed
Miniscule, this spark
Existence

 

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