Wednesday, September 7, 2022

In Search Of The Great Metaphor (from August 21, slightly revised September 7)


 I searched for the great metaphor

There were none to be sought

The water was too rapid

It's color was too blue

The vessel was too empty

Its destiny only the deep 

Slumber was not to be had

In dreams I found no relief

Days were night but nights

were not days, time was lost

I envy the empty space out there

The space where there is nothing.

The weight of my body falls through the sheets.


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