poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

The Old Man
At six the Father denies him the wrath of scorpion or snake At twelve a vision of perilous heights an unsteady stance at the brink. Betrayed by tears of unresolve never a fast fall with a quick end Thrice the length of a lustrum quiet and still, to ponder, to calculate In northern lands glacial waters await A manuscript left behind documents the final solution The poet has said: "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft-a-gley" At the long expected crossing point the old man contemplates alone the meaningless drama of his struggle - all who shared the tragedy now gone It never really was his choice to get this far, to walk his path 18 XII 04
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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