Thursday, 17 May 2007

Poem (Written small hours of May 5th 2007)

A coming of age
No rituals
As far as we could see
Just gifts and tension
Anxiety and the largest small talk
Orbiting what rests snugly below
And gently revealing itself through reflected
Your presence
Permanently tattoos the field

Paradigms are shifted
Belief Systems fall
The tattoo remains
Branded on our imprinted letterhead
Scorched onto our psyche
Stitched into the uniform of my grey matter

Bright, jagged
Kinetic energy purporting to stay static
The gesture emphatic
Majesterially splendid
And yet so modest in their
Lack of malice
No rituals
But raise a chalice
Raise a gourd
Break a barrel
Break Bread and grow

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