Verse

apotheosis …

And I — for you — a harbour
of ever-growing sentinel stars,
substrate sister, set watch in the night sky for signs
of apocryphal tales, or quail, or strife,
and banish them from your vexed brow
to a deep and peaceful sleep.

In my reverence for you springs forth a lust
for the boundless, wandering soul,
thunderous hearts,
nurseries of vice and unquenchable thirst, and
the eternal quests of a prodigal heart, creeping sullen
no more.

I study the relics of your words and tuition
like broken bits of pottery that hide in the diamond sand,
looking for the marrow of a scattered wisdom,
cobbled together like Frankenstein
from past bits and pieces of other lives.

And all I can think is many lives, your very many lives.
For such an old soul you must seem
abreast my unripe heart.

— susan southern-braiden.

( ( ( more of my poetry here … ) ) )

Adventure diva, geek, artist & storyteller. Practitioner of wishcraft. Cooks with visual soul pepper. (You had me at string theory …)

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