ATHANOR one 1 | Page 20

So easily gained, that tranquil plane of pensive mind,
Traversing upon impinging waves, at the waters’ edge;
A genie’s imprint returned as a solitary line across the sand,
Conjured by naked reflections of a doubtful pledge.
From a tortured and twisted edifice of a burning instant,
As a taxi cab of flesh brought to its next fare;
Anew with an inquisitive swarm of electric merchants,
Pulled and dragged down, reluctantly to bear.

REVISITED

Upon an ultimate design of a rose affixed in the sand,
With a hypnotic gaze causing time and space to collide,
In a workmanlike fashion that reassures the careless man,
To empty himself in an emerging place where none can hide.

© Bruce E. Rosenberg, 2006

Who can raise a scintilla of doubt of the throw of jeweled dice,
That gives fate’s return an echoing and absolute silence,
In the shape of a tempered will as cold as splintered ice?
Thus spake the wind’s refrain, in possessing this ephemeral place.
Each portent, a blunt instrument running to find its mark,
And shattering a universe, while stumbling in the dark.

erything
t you need
d want to
know.

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