Night tells tales

Visualized in bread and wine,
heaved in waves that cave,
leaving crabs and mussels wondering
a propos the reason why,
he, they say, fed the poor
and whispered into Mohamed's future.

Today's poor are not fed
and kill for reasons of importance,
neglected by the market
and a lack of visibility.

Night is such a perfect companion!
Silence is soft balm
when solace is near.

There should be fear
of the states to no avail,
of days of dying in a row,
of balancing on exhaled air
and believing in "so far".

Thoughts in further more
seek their own reflection.
I see a breath, eyes,
the coming and its where,
the puzzle, the out,
the: there it is.

But me, why me?




Poetry by Bob
Read 615 times
Written on 2008-03-13 at 23:44

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