Like the Lot of So Many Burning Men

Like the lot of so many burning men,

Who have stood among the years before me,

I am a star farthest from the firmament,

Hoping that my Lord can still somehow adore me...

 

As only He can now say

Just how far this star can stray.

Possibly too far even to pretend

And after all the laughter stalls,

Rapture mauling these abstract walls,

The ceiling rattles and the rafters fall,

Then all manner of matters stall.

 

And here I stand, with all my lore,

No wiser a man than I was before;

My head in an ache, my eyes even sore;

An intimation with fate, as I stare at the floor;

An abyss at my feet, opening like a door;

But only blackness thereafter, the same as before.

 

Then, I can only stand amid the rubble

For so long without a magic wand,

Before I forget how to be subtle--

As I sit now a lonely vagabond.

Author's Note

photo by cullan smith