Parenthesis

I shall call it a parenthesis
because life does extend beyond it,suddenly,
in all directions.
And inside there's just a dotted landscape, with some
moth-eaten words that remain spelt in random order,
so much so, that it sometimes rains to make sense.

A little farther out, I want you to know, that there is (perhaps always was) a 
parenthesis and I am a tree. A tree without shadows and as such there is no movement.
That brings us to the native harbor of innate things, 

sand, heart of hearts, broken boats,
a past and everything everywhere descending.

Now I have no footprints, I do not walk and seek worlds beyond these lines.
Most days when I exude silence, the number sky clouds close and the word one
mists. I let them be.

Looking back, I am a tree, farthest out from parentheses
smelling like catacombs. Looking forward, its all dark,
the night has lost its way. Your sweat beads cling to me
and I am still a tree.

Reviews

[Tree]

Yes. There is an extension, a journey in your poetic conversation that intrigues. As a reader we must listen carefully, clinging to the coattails of your words, but the payoff was worth it. A good poem

[Ed Hart]

i love your freedom with the language...you make it do new things that are a delight to the eye, and echo in the heart

[Abhra]

Thank you Ed. Your feedback, as always, is very special and deeply appreciated.