to be filled by numbers
counting down to new beginnings.
Only empty days remain
between an old life and a new one
waiting, looming in the horizon
to meet my expectations,
dispel all tribulations
or crush my excitations.
It is all too new,
though not yet come;
and in this novel air
I breathe in what remains
of former atmospheres
and taste it like good and bad smoke
on my tongue;
and it burns my lungs,
and I cough out what
I make out to be the last remains of a past,
'till I am left enjoying the high
of a life of memories carefully culled
and one I have yet to try.
?-13 September 2008
2 komente:
can you imagine what it would be like if we felt the transition from day to day this deeply? i wonder if we do at some level. i like how clear this poem is.
I rarely feel the transition this clearly; it only happens when I either look forward to or dread something very much, and in this case it's a combination of both.... Thank you! Your opinion is always appreciated, dear Jon.
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