Litkicks Message Board Archive

Return of the moment.

Posted to Action Poetry

Dancing between the lines
of what was and that which is
there is no before me
Seeking now, be it only a moment
a breath, a chance to breathe.
The sordid space between our utterances
leave for tangled thought
a mass disorganisation
and communication being the only key,
its lost in its incessant need to be a tool.
And I lose you everyday
between what has been said
and what you were meaning to say.
All there is now is silence.
And nothing is heard but the echo
of a dying sun
as the night comes softly in
softly devour, softly comes the hour.
Time, a traitor, in its non existence
and yet you let me lead
and a movement of moment,
is just seed for your regret.