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The Lonesome Road | Poetry

The Color of Creation: Photography by KJH Cardinalis

To-day. To-wit.


The sway of the world.

Slow. Cumbersome.

Indescribably beautiful.

Life hangs everywhere,

turns yellow, red, orange, brown ...

releases from its parent,

floats to the steady-damp earth.

Meaning paints on the blank canvas of meaninglessness.

Heaven laughs. Hell withers.

Memories swirl here and there,

gusting, griping, grumbling,

settling over forgotten furniture.

End of a year: what does it mean?

The chill air hangs on me like a promise.

The road I walk is lonesome and smells of myrtle and pine.

Meaninglessness spray-paints over the masterpiece meaning labored over.

Both laugh and clap each other’s back

before going out for a cup of coffee.


From Fractalverse: Volume Five


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