Exoteric WeaveA Poem by Lydia Thacker
Death, you intimate nightmare apparition,
you cast us forth into galactic night, extricate us from the unrelenting slavery of our mortal toil The wind of your tempest blows to torment the weak, helpless tendrils of life we abandon, those left prostrate and alone with the urgent cutting of our silver thread We surrender ourselves to the succulent white light, that phosphorescent sphere, to which you guide us, perhaps finding symbiosis with the father, perhaps cast again into the budding amber flower that is feeble fetal flesh Docile creatures we are, made squeamish by the harrowing spectre which chooses to offer both the catastrophic, unforgiving burial pyre and the succor of a whimsical interstellar domicile, when, cradle to the fire, we misuse our own exoteric weave. © 2011 Lydia Thacker |
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Added on June 17, 2011 Last Updated on June 17, 2011 AuthorLydia ThackerChillicothe, OHAboutI'm a simple person who enjoys life's simple pleasures. Music, the beauty of the world coming to life in the spring, my son's smile...my three favorite things in the world, followed only slightly by a.. more..Writing
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