Wind talks to itself, talking to me and talking to you,
clueless, wordless in the endless corridor.
Windows open and close,
wind re-enters and washes the vacuum.
Abandoned by words, as memory drips beneath
in the foliage.
I find you in another room.
Formless is this corridor,
as if inventing itself,
reaching for moments in the shape of a pause
that molds us.
The day ponders its immensity,
and the moment contrives an escape.
Escapes from being sculpted as a mute rock,
a rock devoid of its immunity—
cursed to feel its existence, forever.
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where it's taking me, but I love the trip. -gene.
in the foliage.
I find you in another room.
I am drawn to these verses and what they evoke within me. Thank you, Debs. Love and peace to you,
Regis
in the foliage."
found these words quite conducive to how i feel at the moment ... effective and well written poem, Debs ...
as if inventing itself,
reaching for moments in the shape of a pause
that molds us.
I find this particular stanza particularly effective and thought-provoking, Debs. For me, this offering represented a stream of consciousness rather than one tethered whole which seems appropriate for a poem about an endless, windswept corridor which is Alice-like in its ability to liberate a free-fall of thought. A kind of Eat Me-Drink Me effect... not that that in itself makes any sense as a cognitive response! Whatever - I like! :)) xx