I Await You
Sluggish, slow.
The crawl towards one another
happens this way.
Eventually.
Each being will reach its corner,
its new company.
Civilizations
grow. Weeds spread and
are cut down.
The crumbling
should not garner fear.
All things fall
inside themselves,
an inner collision, fluttering
down, melting.
I await you,
we say to selves asleep, and
to others
we stir towards,
shakily, leaning our bodies outward,
blossoms into light.
Finally a poem worthy of Tanguy.
ReplyDelete"Blossoms into light"
ReplyDeleteand
"The crumbling
should not garner fear.
All things fall
inside themselves,
an inner collision, fluttering
down, melting."
Love these lines. Just last night I was studying the photography of Andrew Moore, reflecting on the emotions that his images caused in me. Emotions that I feel in this poem.