I Heard Myself – The Human Anvil


I heard myself,
Through passing prose of life,
In random echoes unending,
World’s single rhyme,
Each pause in time.
I heard myself,
Matching morning’s croon,
In silent noon,
Tuning strings of Brooks,
Counting steps that took,
A different turn.

I remember, the warmth of your hand
The feel of your fingers, like embers,
That winter night,
When you held me first,
Like marionette,
Strings leashed to your lashes,
As you undid me, and unearthed;
Piece by piece,
Till the fire awoke,
Behind my eyes, beneath my skin, beyond my dreams.
But you weren’t triumphant,
Nor red, with pride,
But as me, still,
As stone, as breath,
As world, as death.
And how we traveled, flew past,
Against wind, upon seas,
Within ships, without mast.

There be life, hidden beyond every edge,
And nook and crevice,
And love, in all broken things,
Dying with the wind.
There be laughter,
There be joy,
There be paintings,
There be ploy,
Tracing lives, through stone, wood, walls and steel.

The world may fall,
And the mask of man,
Fold into dust,
But we shall remain,
Here forever,
Reciting, the same symphony,
Through the crowning seas,
The tricks of trees,
And ebony stones,
And ivory bones.

for more from this author, click here: https://thehumananvilblog.wordpress.com/

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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