stop. linger.

Written out of the silence of his isolation, soon after his second divorce, the Poet gave word to the thoughts to a unknown goddess, an abstraction that was, at that time, obscure and unknown, but that he had to believe was out there, somewhere, waiting for him.

stop. linger.

stop.
linger.
the singer has words beyond the melody.
listen with your intellect, respect the seed
planted by the thoughts made language.

stop.
linger.
the finger of God wrote in stone
and we atone at our leisure, sins reflexive,
successive falls make deep the trail of broken spokes.

stop.
linger.
I know so much more than I should,
too much for the good of my bastion,
my cast iron shell that guards what is left of me.

stop.
linger.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.