Feb 2008
Eternal
Inertia in a Body at Rest
a poem
by Devon Stuart Hunt
Copyright © 2008 Devon Stuart Hunt. All rights reserved.
Oft awoke by trembling- thought
the motley convoked bridge of wot
did crumble under stress hidden
by deluge, rime, or verdant spots-
disused to nature's inclement
truths. Were I safer to relent
in one moment learned ere-
as season a changed environment
when the sun fickly flits our surface here-
to conditions of past the consquence' prepare;
less forgiving than the patient
naked tree
who may cry clothed to shame in spring's maternal care;
the lone time is when with, to share, in ability. Suffer be
that exposéd night- none to listen; even gone those sickly
viewn shadows doth presently worthy of supplication-
as a horizon blinded by indigenous penury,
the aureate future once awaited, vanished upon
our minding body, akin to our strength. Long
ago did change lose its intrigue, did dreams
of mine acquiesce to the wearisome burden.
A dying body's vigilant decumbiture above,
where eyes both blinded by minute details
of youth, and cecitous to the quiescence; absolve'
by ideas, identity, developing, continuance. To fail
by George, once more, proudly; chances taken, not given.
Sadly misguided, for lacking a will to walk the trail.
I've crossed my path several times and only now, not then,
did I realize my errors, 'ma l'espirit de l'escalier' en frances,
or, the compass defects, the leaky canteen, the toes blisterin',
etcetera, exigencies on and on, wending as a rambling threnody,
[talking to those dead a patent sign of trouble] id est mundanely
put as: surrounded by strangers passing in a foreign country.
Who is there to understand?
To make a final use of words?
To grieve? Mind poor body,
appearance all to be had,
given; sadly it's triumphal potency.
Our essence of truth has learned
of its own dependence, need.
Contact the Author - tigerwithfire@yahoo.com