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

I awoke to hear the two men speaking they sat uncomfortably in our dimly lit kitchen speaking hurriedly in hushed tones I could not make out the conversation but managed to overhear fragments they spoke with a sense of urgency of terrible things of an angel’s visit, the annihilation of our planet of splinters of Amber breaking off of the reappearance of Oberon I feared for what was to come for myself — would they protect me? would passage be offered? and what of the shadows that for aeons we neglected? was it a great mistake? that we danced and caroused carelessly, infatuated with our freedom to select outcomes? did we forget the Courts of Chaos would always serve as a counterpoint? my mind raced as I drifted back to sleep [25-IV-2019]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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