I am not spent

time stands still for me
as I evaluate the moment
then press it aside
it does not fit
my stubborn demand
to be a certain shade
or of a substance made

dreams of red and gold
fold and find themselves a new window
to watch down the street
where the sound of quick feet
is always of note
I swallow hard, discard,
the kisses catch in my throat

I am not waiting for something
that I know for sure is
I am just praying
that experience has lied
and life is not love denied

I am pondering
illusions of life that I've ridden
past the skies to the stars
and can show you the scars
of what I thought was real
and not just a clever spiel
I am given to remorse
but not prone to change my course

shall I just remain
taking space and spectrum and linger
like a rose in the green
like the voice of a singer
in a bottomless cave
marking time till the worms arrive
but still patient and alive

will the riddles I've ransomed
ever mean more than just a whim
will my countenance banish
vanished grin for a grim
will the spider unwind me
to find me spoiling for a fight
not a delight in the night

I am not spent.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.