wind the wind

vi. wind the wind

estefaaano_writes 

-

the bed at night is a life raft

upon the trackless waters of the dark;

i hang my weary hands over the sides

and pray to what i know not.

drifting eventides into thin black air,

upon my shroud of linen,

feeling alone the unremitting ram 

of the earth-bound frame beneath me;

living proof that gravity still wants me. 

too many successive nights of misery

bestow upon a man a grim and strange gift,

a sense eroding for the invisible,

knowing in such wise as a blind man fathoms water.

wind the wind.

begin to ascend.

reach for whatsoever the air will poffer,

for air is boundless.

a man may climb a weary age

ere he understands climbing and falling

share the same desperate posture.

for thou shalt wind down through the void at last,

and the cold hard ground

shall be the only thing that meets thee,

as it has always met

each high-born thing that rose too far.

the soil run through,

seeping as water enters, 

perceiving aught of secret breach;

for thou art a wound-down music box now,

playing a song thou can't not recall hearing,

turning and ever turning

through a melody that has no resolution,

that knows not its own measure.

the portrait has cracked.

the pigment has departed.

and the last sweet thing my soul remembers

i can no longer look upon,

i do but feel its outline in the dark,

the shape of what it was

before the bitter knowing took it.

there is a tree that grown into its own heart,

and then collapses inward,

and from there goes off into the scenery,

into the wider world

that neither marks nor mourns its adieu.

what was once so real now exists not.

the memories depart, and what remains are feelings.

and what thoughts return i sometimes try to resist.

i watched thy face turn to powder in a year.

i watched it go the way all certainties must go,

and there was no tongue to forewarn me

it was happening, or if there were,

the telling did no good,

for some transfigurations

abide beyond the reach of human witness.

and did it yield a grain of good,

having a comrade hold thy trembling hand

through what was destined to happen anyway?

it was the best for all the world.

for all the world, save thee.

☁︎