Makers of eternity
thunder and fear, I bring this
offering, my used soul,
in return for a length of life
longer than eternal, for a slash
of lightning to break the dark
or a stillness that moves me.
This thin air, this breath,
is a momentary escape, here, forsaken
and twisted, rotted like old storms,
caught in death’s drift, hardened
by a drip of ice.
If I could break myself of these habits,
of these scattered moods. If I could cut
like heat through the final pane, melt,
spill, ooze, discharge a living hiss
of eternal life.
I rush to you these needs,
a removal of time, more wind
in my lungs, waves of blood,
drums in my heart, a slower
passing into this growth of
hollow space, eyes dumb,
Do not sever this hope from me,
do not break me here on earth, please,
a longer journey, a longer journey,
good fortune, good luck,
a shot in the dark, more hours
on the clock, a longer journey.
Gods of eternity thunder and fear
I bring this offering, my used soul,
broken, dismantled. This is all I have
and you have so much.
Excerpt from The Opening
About the Author
A prolific writer and an awarding-winning photographer, Dah has been writing poetry for many years, and according to himself, he has not reached the degree of writing that he knows exists somewhere in his mind. Dah is working on his next collection of poetry.
Visit Dah’s author page www.ctupublishinggroup.com/dah.html