The Little Death

In the little death, I glide
over the cartoon landscapes
of chambers in my mind.

Night winks its starry orbs;
mine yawn open, older
but little wiser...

I untangle myself from
the bed's winding sheets
and glance in the mirror~
halfway expecting that
golden girl I once was~
then stumble to the kitchen
to make morning coffee,
using water drawn from
some lost fountain
of her youth.

She is trapped in the past,
unable to cross fixed lines
time scribed upon my face.
I'm unwilling artificially to
color soft silver tresses
Chronos curls around his
scythe-callused fingers.

If time heals all things,
then why does he ravage me?

A legacy of wisdom leads
far from my beginnings.

My nature, purpose and identity,
I remember to forget~
become blurred, temporal memories
in all my visions of eternity.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2009

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Comments (3)

Redrose2009
"She is trapped in the past,
unable to cross fixed lines
time scribed upon my face."

Artistic lines from a passionate mind. Bravo!
jazzy75
Beautiful and powerful. Thank you for sharing!
gypsyheart
Wow Skybow - a beautiful poem once again from your pen-love your metaphorical language comfort bouquet
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