deepundergroundpoetry.com
Lambent Patter
The passing of laughter in celebration
was raining and trees...
Fallen clouds
in the creeks and streets.
What sort of year is this?...
That faces of flowered garlands
from a grave
flash and blink in the early wave.
That youth grows old
and must forever
lose home.
With that holy light once shown
so obvious
so new, so lovely,
In these shifting sands of me and you,
this dancing death,
What is there to be won?
And what is left
after the setting
of our living daisies done?
was raining and trees...
Fallen clouds
in the creeks and streets.
What sort of year is this?...
That faces of flowered garlands
from a grave
flash and blink in the early wave.
That youth grows old
and must forever
lose home.
With that holy light once shown
so obvious
so new, so lovely,
In these shifting sands of me and you,
this dancing death,
What is there to be won?
And what is left
after the setting
of our living daisies done?
Published 1st Sep 2018
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Beautifully astute offering, Oshinome. It permeates truth in many layers. The first stanza, the imagery, reflections of reality in the moving light -- just stunning. To pay attention to the mirror images of life is to penetrate the veil of appreciation where most are blind.
