Chasm choir

The way a stone is tossed into a dark well

to find water, a level, to hear it hit

bottom.

There was no other way

than by placing our whole body weight

upon the suspension bridge-

between slats, between selves

could we feel it have hold

We could stare into the infinite 

and never know the safest way 

to move atop such vast darkness

By one step,

one stone, 

one question, one more word

about trust, what lies

below 

reveals it self 

in sound but out of sight,

Finally

landing is only the end 

of falling. 

Painting by Gerhard Munthe, 'At the Well' c. 1886 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Pinned down

 

...perception is us

not manifest

destiny or dream

boards and images

attached.

Artwork by Anonymous Unknown author, 18th century, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Storm front

 

Nor did I chase

the storms, even as 

they came for me, that way

Did not run

for shelter stops

Nothing

we wed in between

such pouring days

as if a window

Opened

to a raw and fresh world

Where death and birth

dwell in unison

A reddened dawn 

bled deep

into horizon lines, gashes,

words of warning defined

Old

wives tales,

words of prophecy

fairies and fantasies,

Or metaphor

like We could be

Happy, sirens.

Thoughts as thick as 

Mammatus

dissipate for clearer 

skies shall 

Pass

Blinding truths

anyway...

For now 

I stay shuddered

while wet and wiser

atmospherically.

 

Painting by Hart, James McDougal, 1828-1901  (artist); 'The Storm is Coming' L. Prang & Co. (publisher), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.