Hussain Ali (A Sonnet)Edit
Sometimes, in acts of freedom true -
The lover hast a dying gasp.
Lost souls may find each other new
Warm hands o'er frozen hearts to clasp.
Through silent wood I've walked alone
(The shrug and cold leave them behind)
To withered Redwood my axe have shown,
And Chance a baby growth didst find.
Ah! new leaves so young and bold,
The color Time will never touch,
Though painful truths he may unfold -
The truth which Time allows as such.
My heart will rain; on leaves I give.
But Time, and you, will make it live.
When he came to the dense selection of nothing
He was counting on lucidity
An etching that would rise up from the drama of horizons
Like a call to arms from this urn of ancient oceans
But the silence had made the music
he had heard while driving there
resound like plastic drums within his skull
And the packed and jagged thoughts
He had so carefully prepared
Were just packed and jagged
As he sweated of the cliff with a journey for a journey
Looking at his feet, he knew at once the redbrown of redbrown dust
Could be nothing more than redbrown dust
And looking up, The rocks were dangerous in their density
How much did his eyes project
Before the sunlight filled them up-
Before his desperation, once affronted with the setting (as it arched in every way, arched to slip behind the bent horizon) overflowed?
Tears to reconcile the desert
When the landscape overrode (crushed and crackled from inside) the glass of his snow globe; Left him murdering his daughter for the winds